THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 


THE  TAMING 

of 

CALINGA 


BY 

C.  L.  CARLSEN 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  BUTTON  &  COMPANY 
681  FIFTH  AVENUE 


COPYRIGHT,  1916, 

BT 
E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 
MILTON  NEWMARK 

A  TRIBUTE  TO  A  LOYAL  FRIEND 


A    I  \  f^,   i~k 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE     ...       *  1 

II.  THE  TEST  OF  A  MAN'S  VALOUR  ...  20 

III.  HE  WHO  STRADDLED  A  WOODEN  SWORD  26 

IV.  WHERE  THE  FIRE-TREE  BLOOMS       .       .  37 
V.  BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CREW  THRICE     .       .  42 

VI.  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  GLORIOUS  ONE      .       .  52 

VII.  ANOTHER  OF  THE  GREAT  PEOPLE       .       .  58 

VIII.  THE  MAGIC  OF  THE  GREEN  DEVILS     .       .  68 

IX.  WHEN  "PONY  TAIL"  REMEMBERED     .       .  77 

X.  THE    WOMAN    WITH    THE  SMOULDERING 

BRAND          .       .       ...       .       .       .  85 

XL  TETHERED  BESIDE  A  NOISY  BIRD       .       .  93 

XII.  THE  GOD  OF  THE  BLACK-ROBED  ONE       .  102 

XIII.  THE  TROPHIES  OF  A  THIEF       .       .       .107 

XIV.  THE  MARKS  OF  A  CIVILISED  MAN       .       .  112 
XV.  THE  MYSTERIES  IN  MANY  BONDS       .       .  120 

XVI.  THE  WATCHERS  BESIDE  THE  MYSTERIOUS 

TRAIL 131 

XVII.  THE  SPIRIT  VOICE  OF  Li  CHOY  SANG      .  133 

XVIII.  IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  STRANGE  FURAO       .  147 

XIX.  THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  COMELIEST  MAID       .  160 

XX.  THE  AMUSEMENT  OF  A  LUNATIC      .       .  162 

XXL    HE  THAT  KNEW 180 

XXII.  THE  GHOST  IN  THE  GRAVEYARD     ..""    .  190 

XXIII.  THE    CUSTOMS   OF   CIVILISATION       .       .  202 

XXIV.  THE  Kiss  OF  JUDAS  .       .       .       .       .  221 
XXV.  THE    ESCAPE   FROM   THE   LAND   OF    EN 
CHANTMENT        .       .-,-  235 


THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 


THE   TAMING   OF   CALINGA 

CHAPTER   I 
The  Song  of  the  Tribe 

SOMETIMES  the  venturesome  spirit  of  a 
child  manifests  itself  in  a  whole  people. 
At  such  a  time  the  sons  of  a  nation  so  af 
flicted  reveal  towards  dangers  formerly  be 
lieved  in  and  reverenced  and  feared,  a  defi 
ance  born  either  of  genius  or  of  ignorance. 
The  simultaneous  appearance  of  that  spirit 
among  the  sons  of  alien  races,  to  each  other 
unknown,  might  well  suggest  the  machina 
tions  of  a  god  of  Recklessness,  of  a  god  un 
kindly  mischievous. 

If  there  be  such  a  god,  whether  imp  or 
ogre,  he  must  have  tittered  gleefully  as  he 
followed  the  westward  and  southward  voy 
ages  of  the  Discoverers,  even  laughed  up 
roariously  when  Magellan,  departing  from 


'  THE  NAMING  OF  CALINGA 

the  course  of  Columbus,  rounded  the  Horn. 
In  those  voyages  was  much  to  amuse  a  god  of 
Mischief. 

Far  to  the  East,  or  far  to  the  West,  as 
suited  the  fanciful  whim  of  each  individual 
European  sailor,  lay  a  Land  of  Mysteries, 
of  Rumors,  of  Wonders;  and  the  slant-eyed, 
yellow-skinned  sons  of  that  Land  were  stir 
ring,  were  rousing  themselves  from  the  leth 
argy  of  centuries.  They,  too,  ventured  over 
the  sea — southward  and  eastward.  And  com 
ing  upon  an  Island  Empire,  they  conquered  it 
in  the  names  of  Tao,  and  of  Kwang  Fu  She  or 
Confucius,  and  of  0-mi-to-fu,  their  adopted 
Indian  god,  Buddha;  and  made  that  country 
tributary  to  the  Great  King. 

Li  Choy  Sang,  master  of  warfare,  became 
Viceroy  of  the  New  Province,  and  thither 
transferred  himself,  his  household,  his  fa 
vorite  pocket  idol  of  0-mi-to-fu,  and  all  the 
other  gods  of  his  conglomerate  religion.  Li 
Choy  Sang  proved  himself  skilful,  both  in 
battle  and  in  administration.  But,  above  all, 
he  was  tactful  in  reconciling  his  troops  to 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE         3 

their  long  exile  from  the  Holy  Land,  the  Land 
of  their  birth.  Himself  filled  with  religious 
fervor,  he  was  punctiliously  careful  to  re 
turn  to  China  for  burial  the  bodies  of  all  who 
died,  that  their  souls  might  arise  from  holy 
ground,  and  ascend  into  the  Lotus  Heaven  of 
0-mi-to-fu,  and  not  be  bound  by  an  unhal 
lowed  shroud  of  earth  to  wander  in  the  dark 
caverns  of  the  Underworld.  This  faithful 
ness  in  conserving  for  the  humblest  soldier  a 
chance  to  enter  the  Paradise  of  the  Glorious 
God,  removed  the  last  cause  for  dissatisfac 
tion  that  his  troops  might  have  harbored. 

But,  being  a  young  man,  Li  Choy  Sang 
longed  for  the  excitement  of  active  warfare. 
He  despised  the  puny  efforts  of  the  Savages 
who  occasionally  resisted  his  expeditions  or 
attacked  his  stronghold.  Since  the  monot 
onous  routine  of  such  an  existence  as  his 
palled  upon  him,  he  petitioned  the  Great 
King  for  a  detail  with  less  of  honor  in  it  and 
more  of  service. 

Now,  if  there  be  a  god  of  Recklessness,  and 
that  god  had  whispered  to  Li  Choy  Sang  just 


4         THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

the  hint  that  the  son  of  a  strange  race,  sailing 
a  strange  type  of  ship,  had  come  upon  this 
Island  Empire  of  the  Great  King  and  had 
hailed  it  as  Las  Islas  Filipinas,  or  the  Philip 
pines,  he  would  have  been  filled  with  resent 
ment.  But  with  such  a  pleasing  prospect  of 
battle  before  him,  he  would  have  given  his 
thoughts  to  planning  a  stern  reception  to  the 
interloper  rather  than  to  a  petition  for 
transfer. 

As  it  was,  the  wonderful,  weird  ships  of  the 
intruder,  Magellan,  sweeping  down  the  Bay, 
like  spirit  materializations  from  nothingness, 
surprised  Li  Choy  Sang.  Yet  for  all  of  their 
enormous  bulk,  he  failed  to  appreciate  the 
threat  they  implied,  and  perfunctorily  almost, 
roused  the  Chinese  garrison,  their  Savage 
allies,  and  formed  his  battle-line  upon  the 
sands  of  the  shore. 

A  cloud  of  smoke  belched  forth  from  the 
side  of  the  foremost  ship,  floated  upwards, 
and  a  thunderous  crash  of  sound  boomed 
across  the  Bay.  Though  the  Savage  allies 
fled,  though  the  explosion  betokened  the  noisi- 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TEIBE         5 

est  bomb  Li  Choy  Sang  had  ever  heard,  he 
laughed.  Then  he  despatched  a  squad  of  his 
Chinese  troops  to  the  storehouse  for  a  super 
fluity  of  fire-crackers  and  bamboo-bound 
bombs,  with  the  defiant  retort  of  which  he 
would  warn  the  insolent  invaders  that  the 
soldiers  of  the  Great  King  held  the  shore, 
not  base  Savages  who  would  flee  from  mere 
noise. 

The  strange  ships  sailed  nearer.  A  bang 
ing  clatter,  like  the  crackle  of  a  pack  of  ex 
ploding  fire-crackers,  floated  from  them. 
Afterwards,  as  though  at  command  of  a  com 
mon  signal,  countless  balls  of  smoke  again 
puffed  simultaneously  from  the  sides  of  the 
boats,  and  unrolled  themselves  into  a  murky, 
heavy  veil  that  hid  the  vessels  from  sight. 
The  combined  thunder  deafened. 

Smiling  at  the  childish  faith  of  the  invaders 
in  so  transparent  an  artifice,  at  their  belief 
that  a  simple  cloud  of  bomb  smoke  could  de 
ceive  the  soldiers  of  the  Great  King  into  fear 
ing  a  magical  manifestation  of  the  power  of 
0-mi-to-fu,  Li  Choy  Sang  glanced  down  the 


6         THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

line  of  his  men.  His  expressive  sneer  flashed 
away.  He  shivered.  Here  the  limp  form  of  a 
man  sprawled  upon  the  ground.  There  an 
other  groaned.  Terror  limned  the  yellow, 
slant-eyed  faces  of  the  veteran  troops. 

Li  Choy  Sang  hesitated.  Foreboding 
warned  him  of  some  wizardry.  He  gripped 
his  sword,  strode  to  the  nearest  still  form, 
rolled  it  over.  His  puzzled  eyes  stared  at  a 
red,  stained  gash  inflicted  by  neither  sword 
nor  spear,  by  no  weapon  of  which  he  knew. 
Again  he  faced  the  silent  ships. 

From  the  smoke  cloud  shot  peculiar  small 
boats,  each  one  loaded  with  men. 

Strange,  pale  human  beings ! 

1 1  Green  Devils ! "  a  Chinese  voice  chattered. 

Fearing  that  their  opponents  were  really 
supernatural  fiends,  the  troops  stirred  un 
easily,  but  their  chief  steadied  them. 

As  one  man,  the  individual  invaders  in 
the  first  boat  crouched  low.  A  voice  snapped. 

A  crack,  like  that  of  a  bamboo-bound  bomb, 
replied.  Little  puffs  of  smoke  drifted  up 
ward.  More  men  sprawled  on  the  ground. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE          7 

"The  Sticks  at  their  shoulders  hurl  the 
Magic  of  the  Green  Devils, "  a  Chinese  officer 
screamed  in  warning,  and  led  the  flight  of 
Li  Choy  Sang's  veteran  troops. 

Not  a  command,  nor  sneer,  nor  threat,  nor 
prayer  of  Li  Choy  Sang  could  stay  the  rout. 
So  the  Viceroy  hurried  away  for  his  favorite 
idol  of  0-mi-to-fu,  the  Glorious  God  who  had 
never  failed  him  and  in  whom  he  trusted  for 
the  inspiration  that  should  rally  the  fright 
ened  soldiers  and  lead  them  back  to  their 
duty, — and  to  victory. 

The  survivors  of  the  garrison  fled  north 
ward,  and  Li  Choy  Sang  followed  them.  Dur 
ing  the  many  days  of  the  hurried  flight  north 
ward  and  ever  northward,  and  for  months 
afterwards,  Li  Choy  Sang  pleaded  with  his 
men  and  promised  them  great  rewards  in  the 
names  of  the  Glorious  God  and  of  the  Great 
King.  Everything,  even  the  prospect  of 
burial  in  unhallowed  ground,  failed  to  over 
come  their  terrors.  So  when  the  craven  cow 
ards  took  unto  themselves  women  of  the  Sav 
ages  and  settled  down  to  till  the  soil  and  to 


8         THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

rear  their  offspring,  Li  Choy  Sang,  being  a 
devout  man  and  hoping  once  more  to  see 
the  Holy  Land  of  his  birth,  abandoned  the 
survivors  of  his  command  to  their  ignomini 
ous  shame,  and  traveled  farther  northward 
in  search  of  that  point  of  land  which  was 
separated  from  his  native  country  by  the 
least  expanse  of  sea. 

Though  Li  Choy  Sang's  descendants  never 
knew  what  happened  to  him,  they  surmised 
that  his  bones  rotted  in  unhallowed  ground 
afar  from  the  sacred  soil  of  China.  Genera 
tion  after  generation  of  them  speculated  upon 
the  awful  nature  of  the  impiety  for  which 
0-mi-to-fu  had  doomed  so  pious  and  so  illus 
trious  a  man  to  such  a  terrible  fate.  In  order 
that  their  piety  might  atone  for  his  sacrilege, 
they  redoubled  their  worship  of  the  Glorious 
God,  while  at  the  same  time,  in  order  that  the 
restless,  wandering  soul  of  Li  Choy  Sang 
might  be  pleased  with  them  and  aid  them 
rather  than  haunt  them,  they  installed  him 
as  the  favored  deity  among  all  their  an 
cestors. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TEIBE          9 

But  such  a  mystery  as  Li  Choy  Bang's  dis 
appearance  might  well  be  nothing  more  than 
an  essential  incident  to  the  machinations  of 
an  impish  god,  of  a  patient  ogre. 

So  it  happened  that,  as  many  generations 
afterwards  as  there  are  days  from  moon  to 
moon,  the  Old  Chief  of  the  Tribe  led  his  son 
and  successor  to  the  family  burial  ground 
at  the  top  of  a  tribal  hill.  There,  among  the 
bones  of  their  Ancestors,  the  old  man  told  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  the  strangest  Family 
Tradition  that  Mountain  Savage  ever  heard : 
— about  the  wonderful  distinction  of  their 
descent  from  the  god,  Li  Choy  Sang,  mighty 
as  three  men,  strong  as  a  carabao,  faithful 
as  a  bolo; — about  0-mi-to-fu,  the  Glorious 
God,  and  his  Great  People,  who  live  in  the 
Unknown  Land,  the  Holy  Land  of  the  distant, 
mysterious  West; — about  Green  Devils,  who 
carry  Magic  Sticks  that  stab  from  afar,  like 
a  spear,  and  boom  with  the  voice  of  the  Thun 
der  's  Wrath,  and  flash  like  the  Lightning. 
From  a  secret  crevice  in  a  rock,  he  drew  a 
little,  ugly  idol  with  many  lines  scratched 


10       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

on  its  base.  Bowing  again  and  again  above 
the  Clay  Image  of  0-mi-to-fu  and  pointing  at 
the  tracings,  ^  jgr  H  SfcfM^  he  sur- 
rendered  the  sacred  token  into  the  keeping 
of  his  son,  with  the  words, ' '  By  that  Sign  you 
shall  know  the  Glorious  God,  and  by  their 
god  you  shall  know  the  Great  People.  Seek 
ye  the  Holy  Land  of  that  People,  and  carry 
back  to  it  the  bones  of  your  forefathers — 
and  my  bones — that  my  soul  and  the  souls  of 
all  your  Ancestors  may  escape  from  wan 
dering  in  the  Dark  Caverns  of  Hell  and  may 
enter  the  blissful  Lotus  Heaven  of  0-mi-to-fu. 
But  when  your  search  takes  you  among  the 
Valley  People,  despise  not  their  effeminacy, 
but  heed  this,  my  warning:  Beware  the 
Magic  of  the  Green  Devils I" 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  pledged  his  Sav 
age  Oath  to  fulfil  his  father's  solemn  in 
junction. 

It  might  have  been  a  coincidence  that  the 
Old  Chief  told  his  son  the  Legend  just  when 
the  young  men  and  maids  of  the  Tribe  were 
so  eagerly  watching  for  the  first  bursting  bud 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TEIBE        11 

of  the  Fire-Tree,  signal  of  the  mating  season 
of  the  year.  The  Faithful,  no  matter  by  what 
name  they  called  upon  Omnipotence,  would 
have  said  that  God  had  willed  it  so,  for  al 
ready  the  Strong  Young  Chief  was  impa 
tiently  waiting  for  the  time  when  the  glisten 
ing,  brilliant,  crimson  canopy  of  the  full 
blown  flowers,  shrouding  branches  and  young 
leaves  from  view,  should  send  out  upon  the 
Sacred  Hunt  for  a  human  head  those  youths 
who  would  win  the  Trophy  that  marks  Man's 
Estate  and  gives  the  Eight  to  claim  a  Mate. 
Though  some  who  went  forth  would  never 
return  from  the  Kaid  among  the  Valley  Peo 
ple,  the  Strong  Young  Chief  loved  the  Fire- 
Tree,  loved  the  rich,  warm  glow  of  its  blood- 
red  tint. 

But  more  than  the  symbolic  Fire-Tree, 
more  even  than  the  Custom  of  taking  a  human 
head  and  the  Tribal  Eite  of  presenting  the 
Trophy  of  Valor  to  the  Chosen  Woman  as 
proof  of  manly  worth,  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  loved  the  Comeliest  Maid  of  the  Tribe, 
her  whom  the  Old  Chief  had  designated  as 


12        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

the  fittest  mother  for  a  man's  descendants. 
Though  the  Strong  Young  Chief  knew  that 
the  Comeliest  Maid  recognized  in  him  her 
master  and  expected  him  to  win  her,  he  was 
troubled.  He  had  a  Rival. 

His  father's  tale  intensified  his  anxiety  to 
meet  the  Test.  Not  that  he  feared  the  out 
come,  for  he  believed  in  his  own  skill  with 
the  bolo,  believed  in  his  own  prowess. 
Rather,  he  longed  to  triumph  over  his  enemy. 

Then  the  Fire-Tree  bloomed. 

Ah,  the  fascination  in  the  Fire-Tree !  The 
crimson  Fire-Tree!  When  its  ruddy,  flashy 
glow  blends  into  the  blood-red  glory  of  the 
twilight  clouds  burning  upon  the  mountain- 
tips  afar,  blends  into  the  tinted  sky  above! 
When  its  full-blown  flowers  warn  the  effemi 
nate  Valley  People  of  the  Mountain  Villages 
to  stay  in  their  shacks  at  night  and  to  spend 
their  time  in  courting  and  being  courted; 
warn  those  who  travel  to  avoid  the  quick, 
short  trails  at  the  base  of  the  hills,  to  avoid 
especially  the  night  hours, — and  what  the 
darkness  may  bring!  In  spite  of  the  threat 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TEIBE        13 

of  the  Fire-Tree,  even  the  Valley  People 
sense  the  appeal  of  its  beauty,  as  a  dumb 
brute  might  sense  the  appeal,  because  the 
Fire-Tree  blooms  in  the  mating  season  of 
the  year!  But  for  the  Strong  Young  Chief, 
the  fascination  in  the  first  glorious  blossoms 
was  different.  They  promised  him  the  Come- 
liest  Maid,  and  stirred  his  savage  soul  into 
an  exaltation  that  was  not  carabao-like,  nor 
dull,  nor  slow,  nor  docile,  but  boar-like,  wild, 
resistless,  triumphant. 

On  the  very  day  that  the  young  men  of 
the  Tribe  had  planned  to  set  out  upon  the 
Long  Trail  down  into  the  Land  of  the  effemi 
nate  Valley  People,  the  Old  Chief  died.  In 
that  circumstance,  the  Prosaic  Eeasoner 
would  have  found  evidence  that  an  animal- 
like  sense  of  impending  death  had  prompted 
the  Old  Chief  to  speak  when  he  had,  and  fur 
ther,  because  of  this  latter  coincidence,  such 
an  one  would  have  scoffed  at  the  suspicion 
that  a  god  of  Eecklessness  had  foreordained 
it  all  in  order  that  the  delay  incident  to  his 
father 's  burial  might  goad  the  Strong  Young 


14       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Chief  into  a  wrathful,  frenzied  determination. 

With  one  exception,  the  young  men  had 
deferred  their  departure  upon  the  Sacred 
Hunt  for  the  Trophy  of  Valor,  until  the  last 
savage  honors  should  have  been  paid  to  the 
Old  Chief.  That  exception  aroused  the  son 
to  anger.  With  such  a  handicap  as  the  Rival 
Savage  had  taken,  he  might  frighten  the 
Valley  People  into  a  caution  so  unusual  that 
no  other  youth  could  take  a  Trophy,  might 
win  the  Comeliest  Maid,  might  even  lay  more 
than  a  single  Trophy  at  her  feet. 

Squatted  beside  his  father 's  grave,  uncon, 
scious  of  the  lengthening  shadows  cast  by  the 
tombs  of  his  Ancestors,  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  brooded  Once  again  his  hand  caressed 
his  father's  Trophies.  To  him  they  were 
not  merely  hard.  louiid,  white  balls,  for  from 
them  he  visualized  the  beautiful  features  of 
the  Comeliest  Maid  He  desired  her. 

"Excel  your  fellows,  even  as  I  excelled  the 
young  men  of  my  generation  and  won  the 
Choice  of  the  maids  of  the  Tribe  to  wife,"  the 
Old  Chief  had  commanded. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE        15 

And  how  that  father's  fame  had  lived! 
The  Strong  Young  Chief  had  heard  the  crones 
of  the  Tribe  recount  the  wonders  of  the 
Old  Chief's  return  from  the  Sacred  Hunt 
when  the  blossoms  of  the  Fire-Tree  were 
falling  and  all  had  given  up  hope.  As  a 
child,  he  had  learned  the  chant  with  which 
the  Tribe  had  honored  his  father's  prow 
ess.  And  now,  from  some  recess  of  mem 
ory,  the  words,  unbidden,  entered  his  con 
sciousness,  first  in  fragments  but  finally  in 
entirety. 

Slowly  he  hummed  the  weird,  drawling, 
nasal  chant,  which,  though  it  scarcely  varied 
from  a  monotone,  seemed  nevertheless,  in  its 
rise  to  a  single,  forceful  accent  upon  the  next 
to  the  last  syllable  of  each  line,  to  rush  along 
between  climactic  pauses.  Caught  in  the 
spell  of  the  rhythm,  of  its  fierce,  exultant, 
savage  spirit,  he  forgot  all  fears.  Surrender 
ing  himself  to  a  wild,  exalted  abandon  of 
determination,  he  droned  the  words,  striking 
the  ground  with  his  bolo  as  he  pronounced 
each  emphatic  syllable. 


16       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

"Let  the  Tribe  assemble 
To  honor  the  Great  Chief. 
Bring  the  maids  that  are  fairest, 
The  maids  fit  for  wedlock 
With  him  that  excelleth, 
And  them  fit  for  others 
When  he  hath  chosen. 


"Summon  the  aged, 
The  strong,  and  the  children. 
Let  the  maids  stand  before  him, 
Young  men  wait  upon  him. 
The  Trophies  he  hath  gathered 
Come  from  the  Father  of  Waters, 
And  many  their  number. 

"Hail!   The  Fire-Tree  fadeth 

And  the  suitors  are  waiting. 

Think  not  of  the  fallen  ones, 

The  strong-limbed  who  left  us 

When  the  Fire-Tree  was  crimson, 

And  return  not  when  the  blooms  have  withered. 

Hail!    Hail  to  the  Great  Chief! 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE        17 

"Like  the  wild  boar  that  rageth, 
And  through  the  jungle  crasheth, 
He  hath  harried  the  valley 
Where  the  Great  River  floweth, 
And  hath  filled  the  far  places 
With  the  noise  of  his  journey, 
With  terror  of  his  glory. 


"Now  we  who  have  waited, 
Like  deer  near  the  lair, 
For  the  Stranger  who  wandered 
On  the  trails  of  the  mountains, 
And  have  fled  with  the  Trophy 
At  the  sound  of  strange  voices, 
Must  wait  until  he  hath  chosen. 

"Hail!   Hail  to  the  Great  Chief!— 

Silent,  he  advances, 

Holds  forth  his  Trophies, — 

He  lingers, — and  pauses; — 

At  her  feet,  he  hath  laid  them, 

His  Trophies  of  Valor. — 

Hail  the  Maid  he  hath  chosen !" 


18       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Seeing  in  imagination  another  scene  like  it 
but  with  himself  as  the  dominant,  honored 
hero,  the  Strong  Young  Chief  chanted  the 
words  again  and  again,  chanted  them  until 
the  sharp,  distant  wail  of  a  carabao  startled 
him.  He  glanced  up.  The  twilight  hour  had 
faded,  and  his  long  war-bolo,  a  bar  of  polished 
silver  in  the  darkness,  flashed  a  reflected  ray 
of  moonlight  into  his  eyes.  Still  athrill  with 
emotion,  he  picked  up  the  Image  of  0-mi- 
to-fu  and  set  it  upon  his  knee. 

Unconsciously,  he  stared  at  the  Glorious 
God. 

"Seek  the  Great  People,  and  their  Glorious 
God,  among  the  Valley  People  towards  the 
Eising  Sun,"  he  seemed  to  hear  the  Old 
Chief's  Ghostly  Voice  command. 

Standing  amongst  the  tombs  and  the  Tro 
phies  of  his  Ancestors,  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  turned  his  back  to  the  Couch  of  the 
Sleeping  Sun,  and  stared  at  the  barrier  of 
trees  and  shrubs  and  stringers  below,  through 
which  only  the  mysterious  Long  Trail  led. 
Perhaps  the  restless,  wandering,  unhappy 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  TRIBE        19 

soul  of  Li  Choy  Sang  charmed  the  vacant, 
distant  intensity  into  the  young  man's  eyes, 
charmed  the  silver  lane  of  light  through  the 
jungle,  so  that  the  Strong  Young  Chief  could 
look  out  over  the  shadowy  Land  of  the  Valley 
People,  even  down  to  the  Great  Eiver,  Father 
of  Waters. 

Why  not  seek  the  Great  People,  and  in 
seeking,  gather  many  Trophies  from  far 
places  beyond  the  Father  of  Waters? 

Without  a  single  word  of  farewell  to  the 
Comeliest  Maid,  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
loped  down  the  mysterious  Long  Trail, — 
plunged  into  the  Jungle. 


CHAPTER  n 
The  Test  of  a  Man's  Valor 

SCATTERED  here  and  there  along  the 
roads  in  the  Land  of  the  Valley  People, 
are  thick  jungles  of  guava  brush.  Only  when 
necessary  are  the  roads  cut  through  the  im 
penetrable  shrubbery.  Nevertheless,  at  ir 
regular  intervals,  there  are  trails  into  the 
depths  of  all  such  jungles, — knee-high,  tun 
nel-like  passage-ways,  the  beaten  paths  of 
giant-lizards  or  of  other  Wild  Things.  Be 
cause  the  very  iguana  which  had  first  crashed 
its  way  along  such  a  trail  might  dash,  faster 
than  a  pony  could  trot,  in  fear-inspired  flight 
upon  an  intruder,  no  Valley  Man  ever  ex 
plored  those  paths.  But  for  the  Strong 
Young  Chief,  skilled  in  Jungle  Knowledge  and 
in  meeting  Wild  Things  with  his  bolo  in  hand, 
the  rushing  charge  of  a  frightened  iguana 
had  no  terrors;  while  on  the  other  hand,  the 

20 


TEST  OF  A  MAN'S  VALOR        21 

Old  Chief's  dying  injunction,  "Beware  the 
Magic  of  the  Green  Devils.  Let  Sleep,  and 
the  Night,  and  thy  Bolo-skill  be  a  snare  to 
the  unwary/'  warned  against  the  danger  of 
meeting  the  Valley  People  in  the  Open  and 
by  day.  The  Strong  Young  Chief,  overtaken 
by  dawn,  crawled  so  skilfully  into  the  depths 
of  such  a  jungle  that  no  chance  inspector  of 
the  entrance  to  the  passage-way  he  had  fol 
lowed  would  have  surmised  what  sort  of  Wild 
Thing  slept  within  the  brush. 

The  declining  sun,  sinking  into  line  with  a 
small  opening  in  the  shrubbery  and  the 
sleeper's  eyes,  finally  aroused  the  Strong 
Young  Chief,  as  he  had  planned  that  it  should. 
He  listened  intently  for  any  sound  that  might 
portend  a  danger.  Hearing  nothing  but  the 
drone  of  insects,  he  crouched  in  his  lair,  and 
examined  his  single  Trophy,  while  he  awaited 
the  safe  night  hours. 

Now  that  he  saw  it  by  daylight,  something 
about  that  yellow-skinned,  slant-eyed  Trophy 
challenged  the  Strong  Young  Chief,  almost 
flaunted  him.  Instinctively,  he  recognized 


22        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

some  flaw  in  his  Trophy,  although  at  first  he 
could  not  tell  what  it  was  that  chilled  his 
satisfaction,  his  assurance.  The  nose,  flat 
tened  as  though  by  a  blow  from  the  broad 
side  of  a  bolo,  and  the  Pony  Tail  on  the  head, 
certainly  gave  his  Trophy  a  unique  distinc 
tion,  for  no  other  had  ever  brought  back  such 

a  head!    But He  glanced  at  the  neck. 

The  scrawny  neck!  A  single  stroke  of  his 
bolo  had  severed  it.  That  neck  was  the  chal 
lenge.  Would  not  the  Comeliest  Maid  feel, 
as  instinctively  as  had  he,  that  such  a  Trophy 
was  an  insufficient  Test  of  Valor?  Would 
the  distinction  of  the  Pony  Tail  and  flat  nose, 
though  discounted  by  the  scrawny  neck,  out 
weigh  the  merits  of  other  Trophies'?  And 
what  if  the  Eival  Savage  should  return  with 
more  than  a  single  Trophy?  The  Strong 
Young  Chief  tossed  his  own  Trophy  aside, 
and  glowered  at  it. 

Arising,  he  crept  to  the  little  aperture  in 
the  leaves  through  which  the  last  of  the  sun 
light  flickered  into  his  temporary  lair.  Not 
even  a  crackle  responded  to  the  lover-like, 


TEST  OF  A  MAN'S  VALOE        23 

soft  caress  of  his  bare  feet  upon  the  earth 
and  the  twigs.  Gently  he  worked  his  dark 
head  in  among  the  leaves,  as  though  he  would 
nestle  it  there,  and  his  cautious,  wary,  intent, 
black-brown  eyes  sought  a  view  of  the  outer 
world.  The  Image  tied  to  one  fringed  end 
of  his  gaudy  colored  loin-cloth  rapped 
against  the  stalk  of  a  bush.  With  the  startled 
halt  of  the  Savage  head,  even  the  rustling  of 
the  leaves  ceased,  as  though  the  wind  were 
stilled.  Poised,  lithe,  his  hand  gripping  the 
handle  of  his  bolo,  his  bare,  brown  skin  out 
lining  long,  corded  muscles  tensed  to  meet 
any  emergency,  he  waited  for  whatever  an 
swering  sound  might  threaten.  Only  the 
listless  tread  of  laborers,  passing  along  the 
road  between  the  neighboring  town  and 
fields,  replied.  His  free  hand  lifted  the  Image 
up  against  his  body,  his  head  moved  for 
ward,  and  the  leaves  again  rustled  with  those 
that  the  breeze  stirred.  And  then  he  stood, 
motionless,  while  his  eyes  peered  out  towards 
the  storm-ridden  peaks  of  his  mountain  home. 
Last  of  the  field-laborers,  the  Town 


24        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Dawdler  loitered  along  the  road  and  admired 
the  sparkling  flashes  of  lightning  that 
streaked  the  distant  clouds,  admired  the  night 
shadows  that  crowded  upon  the  short  twi 
light  hour. 

The  boar-like  neck  of  that  Valley  Man, 
more  massive  than  any  a  Savage  had  ever 
seen,  fascinated  the  Strong  Young  Chief. 
His  covetous,  cool,  gleaming  eyes  measured 
it  in  accurate  terms.  The  total  of  four  swing 
ing,  powerful  strokes  of  a  bolo  would  be  a 
task  for  an  Artist.  But  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  knew  that  he  was  an  Artist,  for  the 
Old  Chief  had  said  it. 

The  Loiterer  lifted  his  eyes  from  a  Fire- 
Tree  to  the  bright  Star  that  dominated  the 
fading  sky. 

Filled  with  a  strange,  reckless,  daring  dis 
regard  of  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils,  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  plunged  into  a  tunnel. 
An  hour  later  he  hid  two  Trophies  in  his 
mountain  lair  to  await  there  his  return  from 
his  dashing  raid  beyond  the  Great  Eiver. 
The  following  morning  found  him  hidden  in 


TEST  OF  A  MAN'S  VALOR        25 

a  clump  of  brush  on  the  bank  of  the  Cagayan 
Eiver.  Because  neither  town  nor  shack  was 
near,  no  carabao  lunged  down  to  the  water's 
edge.  And  because  the  surrounding  fields 
were  bare,  untilled,  barren,  no  intruder  dis 
turbed  the  restless,  wary  slumber  of  the 
hidden  Savage. 


CHAPTER  HI 
He  Who  Straddled  a  Wooden  Sword 

SE&OR  CALIMAG,  Presidente  of  Badi, 
had  heard  of  Li  Choy  Sang,  the  last 
Chinese  Viceroy  of  the  Philippines.  So  had 
every  Filipino  who  could  boast  that  he  had 
been  educated  in  Hong  Kong.  But  Seiior 
Calimag  had  a  greater  interest  in  that  illus 
trious  Celestial  than  had  most  of  his  country 
men,  for  Ah  Ching,  leader  of  the  local  Chino 
faction  and  Seiior  Calimag 's  shrewdest  op 
ponent,  claimed  descent  from  Li  Choy  Sang. 
To  that  Ancestor,  whom  Ah  Ching  so  de 
voutly  worshiped,  Seiior  Calimag  credited 
much  of  Ah  Ching 's  ingenuity  in  escaping 
such  penalties  as  the  leader  of  the  dominant 
town  faction  usually  imposed  upon  the  leader 
of  another  faction  so  despised  and  so  small 
as  the  Chinos. 
Senor  Calimag  always  resented  Ah  Ching 's 

26 


HE  WHO  STRADDLED  A  SWORD       27 

activities.  When  that  Celestial,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  absence  of  those  Cagayannes 
who  alone  of  the  inhabitants  of  Badi  had  ac 
cepted  Padre  Antonio 's  invitation  to  the  great 
fiesta  in  Mapia,  ordered  the  Chinos  to  desert 
their  own  candidate  for  the  office  of  presi- 
dente  and  to  vote  for  Senor  Guarrin,  the  Ilo- 
cano  leader,  Senor  Calimag  was  terrified  by 
the  consequences  that  could  follow  the  Ilo- 
cano's  success.  But  since  the  Municipal 
Police  saw  to  it  that  Senor  Calimag  was  re- 
elected,  with  a  majority  of  three  votes,  he 
felt  it  safe  to  become  enraged  at  the  sur 
prise  his  two  opponents  had  sprung  in  the 
election.  So  intense  was  his  anger  that  he 
forgot  all  finesse,  and  according  to  the  well- 
known  custom,  ordered  that  both  Senor  Guar 
rin  and  Ah  Ching  be  publicly  flogged. 

Ah  Ching,  in  particular,  provided  a  great 
spectacle,  an  amusing  spectacle  that  certainly 
delighted  the  people.  With  his  queue  tied 
to  the  tail  of  the  Municipality's  Brown  Pony, 
and  himself  thumping  upon  the  ground  as 
that  spirited  animal  pranced  and  jumped  in 


28       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

fright,  he  proved  a  humorous  illustration  of 
what  vengeance  ought  to  be.  Forever  after 
wards,  the  Chino  was  doomed  to  be  an  object 
of  ridicule.  And  the  skill  with  which  El 
Sargento  applied  the  lash  insured  the 
Chino 's  future  docility.  Senor  Calimag 
rubbed  his  hands  together  and  smiled. 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  admitted 
the  puffing,  corpulent  Senor  Gumila,  faction 
lieutenant  to  Senor  Calimag.  Senor  Gumila 
mopped  his  face  with  his  red  bandana,  spat 
his  chew  of  buja  on  the  floor,  and  glared  at 
his  master. 

"El  Sargento,  whose  querida  serves  in 
Senor  Guarrin's  household,  reports  that 
Senor  Guarrin  and  Ah  Ching  are  preparing 
their  cascos  for  a  trip  down  the  river  to  the 
Coast,  whence  they  proceed  by  steamer  to  Ma 
nila,  where  they  will  lodge  a  Complaint  with 
the  Spanish  Government  against  Senor  Presi- 
dente  Don  Miguel  Calimag  of  Badi,"  he 
snapped. 

Senor  Calimag  threw  out  his  shrunken 
chest,  thus  changing  the  curve  of  his  shoul- 


HE  WHO  STRADDLED  A  SWORD       29 

ders  from  the  habitual  spherical  to  the  hyper 
bolical,  hitched  up  his  abbreviated  white 
trousers,  marched  pompously  into  the  far 
ther  recesses  of  the  room,  and  swore.  As 
second  thought  reassured  him,  the  shrill  rasp 
of  his  voice  in  reply  was  normal;  but  his 
bony,  long-nailed  fingers  twitched  with 
rhythmic  regularity. 

"It  does  not  matter, "  he  asserted. 

Senor  Gumila  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Possibly,"  he  conceded,  "but  Ah  Ching 
thinks  it  strange  that  all  the  votes  of  the 
town  were  cast,  since  sixty  of  your  supporters 
were  in  Mapia  with  Padre  Antonio,  the  Ilo- 
cano.  Perhaps " 

"The  devil!"  Senor  Calimag's  rasping 
voice  shrilled.  "The  insolence!  The  devil! 
I'll  teach  the  Chino  pig!" 

Rage  mastered  Senor  Calimag,  overpow 
ered  him,  and  he  sank  into  a  chair. 

Senor  Gumila  gloated  over  his  leader's 
mental  squirmings.  His  eyes  narrowed  to 
pudgy,  cruel  slits. 

"Ah  Ching  is  no  hard-head,"  he  taunted; 


30       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

"Ah  Ching  hired  the  boats  on  which  Padre 
Antonio  took  your  followers  to  Mapia.  * '  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  again.  "But  I 
warned  you  against  flogging  the  Chino  for 
it11 

Ujjin,  Senor  Calimag's  favorite  fighting- 
cock,  crowed.  The  master  snatched  a  slipper 
from  his  foot  and  hurled  it  at  the  bird. 

"Am  I  to  lose  my  siestas  because  of  the 
schemes  and  senseless  plots  of  a  pack  of 
Chinos  V9  he  snapped. 

"The  centipede  stings  the  bare  foot  that 
crushes  it.  Better  to  wear  a  slipper, "  Senor 
G\umila  hinted.  "At  least,  we  must  also 
travel  to  Manila, — to  forestall  Senor 
Guarrin. ' ' 

Senor  Calimag  snarled  an  oath.  Perhaps 
if  he  had  ever  heard  of  the  Family  Tradition 
of  a  certain  Mountain  Savage,  he  would  have 
regretted  still  more  that  he  had  ordered  the 
flogging  of  Ah  Ching.  Perhaps,  even,  he 
would  have  been  filled  with  greater  fore 
bodings. 

With  the  light  tread  of  a  Mountain  Sav- 


HE  WHO  STEADDLED  A  SWOED       31 

age,  with  such  a  stealth  as  is  permitted  by 
bare  feet  that  fall  as  noiselessly  as  though 
set  on  cushions,  a  Strange  Figure  glided  into 
the  room. 

'  '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, "  the  Creature  yelled,  a 
wild,  exultant,  full-throated,  rolling  cry  that 
rose  through  the  tones  of  a  major  chord  to  a 
piercing  "Ah"  and  dropped  back  a  major 
third  on  the  final  syllable. 

Senor  Calimag  recoiled; — his  chair  slid 
fully  a  foot  across  the  floor.  To  make  the 
sign  of  the  Cross,  to  gurgle  a  rasping 
"Jesu!"  proved  beyond  his  powers  of  simul 
taneous  accomplishment ;  he  could  only  choke 
and  tremble. 

Although  startled,  Senor  Gumila  preserved 
his  dignity;  with  a  mere  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  he  crossed  himself. 

Earthy  trousers  with  slashed  ends  hang 
ing  in  a  fringe  about  strong,  wiry  muscles; 
a  coat  of  old,  soiled  sacking  with  a  large, 
yellow  calico  cross  upon  the  breast;  and  a 
tattered  Spanish  army-cap,  worn  visor  to  the 
rear,  through  two  rents  of  which  protruded 


32        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

tufts  of  black  hair  twisted  into  the  shape  of 
horns:  identified  El  Lunatico.  Under  his 
arm  he  carried  his  toy-bolo,  a  long,  flat,  broad, 
thick  ebony-wood  stick  fashioned  into  the 
form  of  a  sword,  pointed  at  one  end  and  deco 
rated  at  the  other  with  a  handle  the  magnifi 
cent  carving  of  which  would  have  honored 
a  war-bolo. 

El  Lunatico 's  roving,  limpid  brown  eyes 
wandered  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two 
men.  Something  about  Seiior  Calimag 
pleased  him,  and  he  crept  towards  that  agi 
tated  gentleman.  Suddenly  his  empty  laugh 
ter  rang  out,  and  throwing  back  his  head,  he 
yelled,  ' '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah. ' ' 

The  cry  thus  repeated  seemed  to  jar  Senor 
Calimag  out  of  his  benumbed  terror.  Curs 
ing  vigorously,  resentfully,  he  clambered  to 
his  feet. 

"Scat,"  he  commanded. 

El  Lunatico  leered  at  him,  drew  his  wooden 
sword,  and  with  the  correct  military  flourish, 
saluted.  Expectantly,  he  waited  for  the 
proper  answering  courtesy — the  sign  of  the 


HE  WHO  STEADDLED  A  SWOED       33 

Cross.  Senor  Gumila  gave  it,  but  Senor  Cali 
mag  only  shivered,  and  sidled  behind  Senor 
Gumila 's  corpulent  bulk.  El  Lunatico 
stamped  his  foot,  and  jabbered  insistently  at 
the  delinquent. 

There  were  times  when  Senor  Calimag, 
roused  to  an  exceptional  frenzy  by  some  un 
toward  intrusion  of  El  Lunatico,  forgot  that 
awe  of  the  Almighty's  Power  usually  in 
spired  in  him  by  the  sight  of  the  "Accursed 
of  God,"  forgot  that  the  one  so  afflicted  for 
his  sins  enjoys  God's  Protection.  At  such 
times,  his  carefully  concealed  resentment  at 
the  prerogatives  accorded  the  "Accursed 
One"  flared  forth  in  some  rash,  retaliatory 
manifestation  of  his  anger.  But  this  was 
not  such  a  time.  Senor  Calimag  quailed  be 
fore  the  stare  in  El  Lunatico 's  limpid  brown 
eyes,  and  shrank  into  a  smaller  compass  be 
hind  his  bulky  refuge. 

Again  El  Lunatico  saluted.  This  time  both 
Senor  Calimag  and  Senor  Gumila  crossed 
themselves.  The  Accursed  One  laughed  his 
pleased  approval,  danced  excitedly  about 


34       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Seiior  Calimag,  and  began  to  chatter,  "Flog 
Ah  Ching  and  Ah  Ching  plots.  Flog  Ah 
Ching  and  Ah.  Ching  plots. " 

Senor  Calimag  shuddered,  but  Seiior 
Gumila,  barely  glancing  in  triumph  at  his 
leader,  soothed  the  Irresponsible  One. 

"There,  there,  Pedro, "  said  he.  "Bun 
along  now  and  play  soldier  with  the  chil 
dren.  We  must  work." 

"Flog  Ah  Ching  and  Ah  Ching  plots,"  El 
Lunatico  chattered  on. 

How  long  Senor  Calimag  could  have  en 
dured  the  torture  of  the  Accursed  One's  per 
sistent  attention,  is  a  question.  A  diversion 
saved  him  from  an  utter  collapse.  Attracted 
by  the  disturbance,  his  eldest  ignorante  con 
cubine  entered  the  room.  Though  her  young- 
old,  haggish  face  still  revealed  traces  of  the 
beauty  which,  such  a  few  years  ago,  had  cap 
tivated  her  master,  her  wrinkles  and  plead 
ing  eyes  could  now  charm  none  but  the  luna 
tic.  At  a  word  from  her,  at  sight  of  her,  El 
Lunatico  forgot  his  senseless  chatter.  In 


HE  WHO  STEADDLED  A  SWOED       35 

obedience  to  her  command,  he  straddled  his 
toy-sword  and  galloped  out  of  the  room. 

Senor  Calimag  fought  for  self-control.  He 
turned  to  his  lieutenant  and  dependent. 

"Perhaps  you  who  are  not  nervous  and 
have  no  aversion  for  El  Lunatico  could  en 
tice  him  to  favor  your  home  instead  of 
mine?"  he  pleaded.  "I  have  been  a  good 
friend." 

Senor  Gumila  pondered  mightily  upon  the 
request.  He  wrinkled  his  brow,  while  he 
narrowly  studied  his  benefactor. 

"Strange  how  the  Accursed  One  is  fasci 
nated  by  him  whom  God  saved  from  ven 
geance  and  death  in  the  Afflicted  One's  last 
sane  moment  1"  he  meditated,  half -aloud. 
"  Perhaps  God  reminds  El  Lunatico — to 
punish  him." 

Senor  Calimag  swore  vigorously,  but  his 
oaths  came  from  between  chattering  teeth. 

Though  at  first  Senor  Gumila  shook  his 
head  dubiously,  he  smiled  an  assent,  when  the 
expectant  light  faded  from  his  master 's  eyes. 
Yet  something  about  that  smile,  a  teasing 


36       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

smile  that  suggested  so  many  things,  discon 
certed  Senor  Calimag. 

Senor  Gumila  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Perhaps,"  he  reasoned,  "El  Lunatico 
might  be  willing  to  come.  Who  knows?"  He 
paused  to  laugh  at  Senor  Calimag 's  eager 
ness.  "Perhaps,  if  I  had  an  attraction  at 
my  home " 

Senor  Calimag  swore,  and  threatened,  and 
raged,  until  Senor  Gumila 's  often  repeated 
reminders  recalled  the  angry  man's  thoughts 
to  the  urgent  need  of  preparing  at  once  for 
the  long  journey  to  Manila.  Next  morning, 
Senor  Calimag  and  his  indispensable  travel 
ing  companion,  the  Champion  Gamester, 
Ujjin,  together  with  Senor  Gumila  and  a 
majority  of  the  Municipal  Police,  took  pos 
session  of  Ah  Ching's  casco,  making  the 
Chino  a  prisoner  on  his  own  boat,  lest  he 
create  trouble  during  their  absence  from 
Badi. 


CHAPTER   IV 
Where  the  Fire-Tree  Blooms 

ANOTHER  twilight  hour  drew  near. 
Once  more,  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
ventured  forth  from  the  security  of  a  day 
time  retreat,  and  reconnoitred.  No  living 
thing  stirred,  not  even  a  lizard,  but  far  to  the 
South  two  specks  on  the  surface  of  the  Ca- 
gayan  drifted  toward  him.  Crouched  low 
and  poised  on  his  toes,  the  twilight  blending 
his  brown-skinned,  muscular  figure  with  the 
clay  of  the  earth  and  the  brush  behind  him, 
one  sinewy  hand  clasping  the  handle  of  the 
bolo  stuck  in  the  ground  before  him,  his  cheek 
nestled  against  the  blade,  a  powerful  fore 
arm  resting  on  his  knee,  a  hand  holding  the 
Image,  he  watched  the  spots  approach. 
Sometimes  he  glanced  at  the  Image,  or  care 
fully  surveyed  the  Mark  upon  its  base  that 
he  might  fix  in  his  memory  the  Sign  of  the 

Great  People. 

37 


38       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

The  specks,  growing  larger,  took  the  defi 
nite  form  of  cascos,  two  boats  that  raced 
along  as  though  each  strove  to  outdistance  the 
other.  The  Strong  Young  Chief  was  an  in 
terested  spectator  of  their  contest.  If  he 
had  been  a  man  of  the  Valley  People,  he 
would  have  wondered  why  the  crews  rowed 
so  strenuously  when  they  could  have  drifted 
with  the  swiftly  rushing  current  of  the  river. 
As  it  was,  he  counted  the  possible  Trophies 
on  each  boat,  and  estimated  the  dimensions 
of  the  necks  that  such  laborers  would  pos 
sess.  One  casco  swept  past.  Later,  a  crunch 
ing  thud  below  announced  that  the  other  had 
made  a  landing  to  tie  up  for  the  night. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  promptly  slipped 
back  into  the  gloom  of  his  daylight  lair.  But 
shortly,  gaining  assurance  from  the  fact  that 
none  of  the  passengers  labored  up  the  steep 
incline  of  the  winter  rivulet  nor  sought  to 
work  the  boat-cramp  out  of  their  limbs  in  a 
parade  upon  the  bank,  he  risked  the  noise 
incident  to  parting  the  brush  before  him  and 
crept  to  a  vantage  point  at  the  edge  of  the 


WHERE  FIRE-TREE  BLOOMS       39 

bank.  The  interlaced  bamboo  wickerwork 
covering  of  the  boat  forty  feet  below  him 
shut  off  his  view  of  the  occupants.  Through 
the  little,  central,  side  openings  from  which 
the  flaps  had  been  lifted,  filtered  the  dim,  yel 
low,  smoky  glare  of  oil  torches,  shafts  of  light 
so  feeble  that  they  scarcely  pierced  the  black 
ness  of  night  beyond  the  bamboo  walkways 
along  the  sides  of  the  boat.  Now  and  then 
the  Strong  Young  Chief  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  stooping  figure,  just  a  silhouette  in  the 
light,  passing  through  an  opening. 

At  last  no  figures  moved.  But  the  oil- wick 
still  burned,  and  the  splash  of  water  thrown 
at  regular  intervals  of  time  from  one  open 
ing  betokened  wakefulness.  Wakefulness 
carried  a  threat  of  the  Magic  of  the  Green 
Devils.  So  the  Strong  Young  Chief  watched 
and  waited,  with  savage  patience,  for  sleep 
and  the  soporific  hour  of  the  night  to  ensnare 
the  defensive  powers  of  every  occupant  of  the 
boat.  But  when  an  exceedingly  long  period 
of  inactivity  on  the  part  of  the  water-bailer 
and  guard  had  reconciled  the  Strong  Young 


40       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Chief  to  daring  the  puny  light,  when  only  a 
few  snores  sounded  in  the  silence,  when  he 
had  stolen  to  the  edge  of  the  winter-rivulet 
that  splash  of  water,  a  querulous  voice,  the 
slushy  thud  of  a  foot  planted  on  clay  mud, 
halted  him.  ^he  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils 
might  be  threatening!  He  trembled.  The 
awkward,  uncertain  scraping  of  climbing  feet 
upon  the  harder  clay  of  the  rivulet's  bed  re 
assured  him.  Poised  to  spring  if  need  be, 
every  muscle  tensed  and  ready  to  play  its 
part,  a  triumphant  gleam  in  his  eyes,  he 
clasped  the  handle  of  his  bolo  in  both  hands 
and  threw  it  far  back  over  his  shoulder. 

Senor  Guarrin  stubbed  his  toe.  The  stiff, 
cramped  condition  of  his  muscles  multiplied 
the  pain.  He  paused  long  enough  in  his  puff 
ing  climb  to  the  bank  above  to  curse  Senor 
Calimag's  tyrannous  conduct  in  Badi,  paused 
long  enough  to  swear  at  such  a  bed  of  rice- 
sacks  as  a  riverman  would  have  considered 
luxurious  and  at  all  the  other  discomforts  of 
river  travel.  Noting  that  he  had  reached  a 
more  gradual  incline  in  the  ascent,  he  re- 


WHERE  FIRE-TREE  BLOOMS      41 

sumed  Ms  awkward  effort  to  attain  the  level 
ground  above. 

Though  Senor  Guarrin  had  observed  that 
the  blossoms  of  the  Fire-Tree  burned  crim 
son  along  the  shores,  he  gave  no  thought  to 
Head-Hunters, — nor  did  the  clump  of  brush 
ahead  disturb  him, — for  only  once  had  a 
Savage  dared  to  approach  the  Great  River, 
and  none  had  ever  been  known  to  cross  it.  As 
Senor  Guarrin  did  not  suspect  that  the  son 
of  that  Single  Exception  was  on  the  Sacred 
Hunt,  he  did  not  hesitate  again. 

A  swish !  Then  the  thud  of  a  body  falling 
prone  upon  the  ground ! 

No  observer  could  have  described  the 
scene  j  the  time  was  that  hour  before  the  dawn 
in  which  darkness  rules  the  night  and  the 
human  eye  is  dull. 

With  his  new  trophy,  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  fled  northward  down  the  river  in  pur 
suit  of  the  other  casco. 


CHAPTER  V 
Because  the  Cock  Crew  Thrice 

SEftOR  CALIMAG  personally  aroused  the 
crew  of  his  casco,  urged  them  to  hurry 
the  preparation  of  their  morning  meal,  even 
condescended  to  aid  them  by  building  a  fire 
in  the  clay  firebox  while  they  gathered  a  sup 
ply  of  fuel.  Senor  Calimag  did  not  propose 
to  lose  any  advantage  he  had  gained  over 
Senor  Guarrin  in  the  race  to  Manila,  espe 
cially  when  the  river  was  falling  and  the  loss 
of  an  hour  might  make  the  difference  between 
drifting  over  the  Upper  Bar  and  the  neces 
sity  of  spending  hours  in  passing  that  ob 
struction. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  crew  were  Ah 
Ching's  men,  and  they  could  see  no  reason  for 
such  unseemly  haste  as  their  employer's 
enemy  urged.  It  was  bad  enough  to  be  roused 
before  a  hint  of  daylight  tinged  the  eastern 
sky.  They  loitered. 

42 


BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CREW       43 

El  Sargento,  reconnoitring  from  the  bank 
above,  discerned  a  cluster  of  shacks  at  some 
distance  from  the  river.  Such  a  barrio  sug 
gested  the  possibility  of  increasing  the  boat's 
larder  of  begung  and  rice  by  the  addition  of 
chickens.  But  chickens  sometimes  squawk, 
and  thus  arouse  their  owner  in  time  for  him 
to  make  a  determined  effort  at  rescue.  El 
Sargento  returned  to  the  casco  for  his  weight 
ed  deer-thong,  a  strong  cord  with  a  heavy  ball 
at  either  end,  a  harmless  weapon,  yet  most 
effective  in  subduing  recalcitrant  owners  and 
in  silencing  their  protests. 

Returning  with  his  spoils  a  half  hour  later, 
El  Sargento  was  surprised  to  find  that  a 
squatty  bush  had  grown,  during  his  absence, 
upon  the  very  brink  of  the  bank.  He  halted 
and  stared  at  it.  In  a  measure,  the  discov 
ery  gave  him  a  sensation  of  creepy  thrills. 
If  he  had  not  surmised  at  once  that  it  was 
Senor  Guarrin's  spy  crouched  there,  and 
leaning  forward  to  listen,  the  sudden  appari 
tion,  merely  a  dark  object  against  the  faint 
trace  of  morning  light,  would  have  terrified 


44       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

him.  As  it  was,  El  Sargento  proposed  to 
surprise  the  intruder,  to  frighten  him,  to 
punish  him,  to  teach  him  a  lesson.  Very 
quietly,  lest  any  slight  noise  give  warning, 
he  deposited  the  dead  chickens  on  the  ground. 
Grasping  one  iron  ball  in  his  hands  and  whirl 
ing  the  other  above  his  head  until  it  had  at 
tained  a  momentum  sufficient  to  entangle  the 
interloper  in  the  deer-thong,  El  Sargento 
aimed,  released  the  weapon,  and  it  shot 
through  the  air. 

The  thong,  catching  the  ill-balanced  Strong 
Young  Chief  across  the  shoulders,  toppled 
him  over  the  bank.  He  crashed  through  the 
bamboo  covering  of  the  casco,  and,  stunned 
by  the  fall,  sprawled  at  Senor  Calimag's  feet. 
Beside  him,  his  blood-stained  bolo  clattered 
and  jumped  on  the  bamboo  slats  like  a  living 
thing. 

" Mercy,  Jesu,  mercy!  Santa  Maria  y 
Josep!  Such  a  f right !"  Senor  Calimag 
screamed,  and  crossing  himself,  sprang  back 
from  the  petrified,  mocking  grin  of  horror 
upon  the  face  of  Senor  Guarrin's  head, 


BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CREW       45 

sprang  far  back  into  the  casco's  inner  re 
cesses,  which  had  been  reserved  for  the  pris 
oner,  Ah  Ching.  Stumbling  over  the  Chino, 
Senor  Calimag  cowered  where  he  fell. 

The  quiet  Celestial  puffed  unconcernedly 
at  his  queer  pipe,  as  though  oblivious  of  the 
commotion,  of  the  head  of  his  ally,  or  of  the 
powerful,  sprawled  figure  of  the  Savage. 

In  his  first  fright,  the  corpulent  Senor 
Gumila  squatted  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor. 
But  he  promptly  clambered  to  his  feet, 
reached  for  the  bolo,  and  with  scarcely  a 
glance  of  admiration  for  the  beautiful 
weapon,  hurled  it  far  into  the  night, — to 
splash  and  to  sink  into  the  bosom  of  the 
Father  of  Waters. 

"It  is  well  to  dispose  of  that  danger  first," 
he  chattered. 

Since  the  clamor  suggested  to  Ujjin  the 
turmoil  about  a  combat  in  the  cock-pit,  he 
crowed  a  lusty,  exultant  challenge  at  the 
disturber. 

Before  turning  upon  the  huddled  Policia 
and  boatmen,  Senor  Gumila  cuffed  the  offi- 


46       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

cious  fowl,  an  attention  that  did  not  mend 
matters  with  the  noisy,  refractions  gamester. 

"Bind  the  Head-Hunter.  Quick,  you  hard 
heads — before  he  revives,"  Senor  Gumila 
commanded. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  stirred,  and 
opened  his  eyes.  Defiance  and  hate  lit  them. 
Glaring  at  the  braver  spirits  advancing  to  do 
Senor  Gumila *s  bidding,  he  reached  for  his 
bolo,  but  finding  that  weapon  gone,  he 
crouched  warily.  Then,  when  he  located  the 
black  of  the  night,  he  gave  one  piercing, 
contemptuous,  exultant  yell,  and  sprang  for 
escape.  The  impact  of  his  massive  physique 
indented  the  mob,  even  toppled  some  of  the 
men  into  the  river.  But  the  very  number  of 
living  units,  their  fear-inspired  resistance, 
threw  the  attacker  back,  as  though  by  the 
recoil  of  a  spring.  Senor  Gumila  skilfully 
tripped  the  Savage,  throwing  him  head  fore 
most  into  the  earthen  fire-box  and  rendering 
him  unconscious. 

When  the  trembling  Police  had  bound  the 
Head-Hunter  and  the  immediate  danger  was 


BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CKEW       47 

passed,  Senor  Gumila  also  found  time  to  cross 
himself  as  Senor  Calimag  had  done  at  the 
very  first,  found  time  to  mutter,  "Jesu,  Santa 
Maria  y  Josep!" 

To  steady  their  nerves  before  proceeding 
with  a  close  examination  of  the  Savage,  every 
one  took  a  drink  of  bino.  Even  then,  with 
the  exception  of  Senor  Gumila,  the  spectators 
kept  well  away  from  the  powerful,  prostrate 
body  of  the  Head-Hunter.  But  when  one 
after  another  reached  out  a  bare  foot  and 
poked  at  the  limp  Savage,  El  Sargento  hap 
pened  to  discover  the  ugly  Image  of  0-mi- 
to-fu.  Senor  Gumila  promptly  picked  it  up. 

As  though  some  vital  connection  between 
the  Lump  of  Clay  and  the  unconscious  owner 
warned  the  Strong  Young  Chief  of  the  dese 
cration  of  the  Glorious  God,  he  sat  up.  When 
he  saw  the  idol  in  Senor  Gumila 's  hand,  he 
snarled.  His  legs  bending  at  the  knees  and 
working  back  and  forth  with  the  regular 
sweep  of  piston-rods,  his  head  rolling  from 
side  to  side  and  his  jaws  snapping,  yelling 
ferociously,  the  Head-Hunter  threw  himself 


48        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

about  the  floor,  a  wriggling,  squirming,  thong- 
bound  mass  that  hurled  the  spectators  hither 
and  thither  in  surprised  heaps.  Incidentally, 
he  sank  his  teeth  into  the  leg  of  the  careless 
El  Sargento. 

But  as  soon  as  Seiior  Gumila,  muttering, 
' '  Jesu !  The  devil !  It 's  a  maniac, ' '  dropped 
the  Image,  crossed  himself,  and  stepped  back 
to  admire  the  spectacle,  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  laid  quiet  again,  exhausted  and 
panting. 

El  Sargento,  holding  his  injured  limb  and 
hopping  about,  suggested,  "A  flogging  to  the 
death  would  be  a  fit  way  to  destroy  the 
Savage." 

Seiior  Gumila  shook  his  head  in  denial. 

But  the  idea  appealed  to  Seiior  Calimag, 
who  could  think  of  no  punishment  more  suit 
able  for  the  fright  he  had  suffered,  for  the 
spectacle  he  had  made  of  himself.  Besides, 
he  dared  to  disagree  with  the  judgment  of  his 
adviser,  though  others  might  not. 

"Jesu!    Why  not?"  he  quavered. 

Pointing  at  the  forgotten  head  and  speak- 


BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CEEW       49 

ing  in  a  solemn  voice,  Senor  Gumila  an 
swered,  "The  Instrument  of  God!  We  need 
not  proceed  to  Manila,  nor  face  a  Spanish 
investigation. " 

At  the  mere  thought  of  that  terrible  pros 
pect,  Seiior  Calimag  cowered.  But  that  dan 
ger  was  passed.  He  glanced  at  the  Head- 
Hunter. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  was  testing  his 
bonds.  Finding  that  they  held  him  helpless, 
like  a  deer  ensnared  in  thongs,  he  began  to 
realize  his  real  predicament.  He,  too,  glanced 
about, — glanced  into  Senor  Calimag 's  specu 
lative  eyes.  Then  he  howled, — an  awful,  sav 
age,  vindictive  yell  of  despair. 

Senor  Calimag  and  every  other  Filipino  on 
the  boat  recoiled.  Only  the  impassive  Ah 
Ching  was  deaf  to  the  threat  in  that  cry. 

Ujjin  arched  his  neck,  blinked  saucily,  and 
answered  the  defiant  challenge  with  as  bold 
an  one. 

Senor  Calimag  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
shook  his  head. 


50       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

"The  Instrument's  work  is  done.  Guard 
ing  it  will  be  a  nuisance, ' '  he  decided. 

But  when  Ujjin  crowed  again — and  re 
ceived  a  cuff  from  his  master — Senor  Gumila 
started,  and  crossed  himself. 

"The  Cock  crowed  thrice, "  he  warned. 
"God  grants  His  Protection  to  El  Lunatico, 
to  him  whom  He  hath  humbled  with  His 
Curse.  Is  the  Instrument  of  God  less  than 
the  Accursed  of  God?" 

As  the  omen,  the  three  challenges  just  be 
fore  the  dawn,  impressed  Senor  Calimag,  the 
enthusiasm  in  his  vindictive  resentment 
waned,  although  he  was  not  convinced. 

"The  Cock  crowed  thrice,"  Senor  Gumila 
repeated,  and  crossed  himself  again. 

Senor  Calimag 's  meditative  eyes  studied 
the  Savage.  He  shivered. 

"I  will  assume  the  responsibility,"  Senor 
Gumila  offered.  "The  Instrument  of  God 
may  some  time  be  useful  in  dealing  with  a 
man's  enemies,"  he  added,  as  a  persuasive 
afterthought. 

"Jesul"  Senor  Calimag  exclaimed.  "That 


BECAUSE  THE  COCK  CREW       51 

is  true !  I  myself  will  keep  the  Instrument  of 
God,  and  civilize  him." 

Then  he,  too,  crossed  himself. 

Ujjin  hurled  a  defiant  challenge  to  the  de 
parting  night,  and  retired  to  his  roost  within 
the  shadows  at  the  utmost  limit  of  his 
tether. 

After  a  time  the  crew  slept  again,  and  all 
was  quiet,  except  for  the  calculating,  hard 
breathing  of  the  fettered  Savage,  and  the  lazy 
puffing  of  the  impassive  Ah  Ghing. 


CHAPTEE  VI 
The  Sign  of  the  Glorious  One 

LATE  the  following  night  a  faint,  pecul 
iar,  unfamiliar  odor  assailed  the 
Strong  Young  Chief's  sensitive  nostrils  and 
brought  his  attention  back  to  his  surround 
ings.  Then  his  ears  distinguished  a  nasal, 
droning  jabber.  While  El  Sargento,  his 
guard,  slept,  he  worked  himself  into  a  sitting 
posture,  and  watched  Ah  Ching  with  fasci 
nated  interest. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  knew  where  was 
hidden  a  Trophy  with  a  Pony's  Tail.  The 
Owner  had  been  head  and  shoulders  shorter 
than  the  Jabbering  One,  thinner  like  the 
bamboo,  and  had  worn  the  loin-cloth  instead 
of  the  flowing  robes.  But  the  same  big  ears, 
the  forked  eyes,  the  hollow  cheeks,  distin 
guished  the  captured  Trophy.  And  a  blow, 
as  of  the  broad  side  of  a  bolo  had  flattened 

52 


SIGN  OF  THE  GLOEIOUS  ONE       53 

the  nose.  The  Strong  Young  Chief  wondered 
if  it  were  the  Custom  of  the  People  with  the 
Pony's  Tail  to  strike  flat  the  noses  of  the  new 
born.  One  sweep  of  the  bolo  had  been  suf 
ficient  to  take  the  Hidden  Head.  He  meas 
ured  the  neck  of  the  Jabbering  One.  It  fell 
short  of  that  of  the  Trophy  with  the  Carabao 
Neck  by  a  single  stroke  of  the  bolo.  Three 
sweeps  would  sever  it  artistically. 

Stretched  to  his  full  height,  head  uplifted, 
arms  extended  against  the  bamboo  covering, 
sleeves  piled  upon  his  shoulders,  Ah  Ching 
kneeled.  Beside  him,  four  smouldering  sticks 
wafted  upward  little  cylinders  of  smoke  that 
curled  like  the  lash  of  the  bejuco. 

The  strange,  kneeling  figure  crossed  his 
bare  arms  upon  his  chest,  and  began  to  swing 
up  and  down,  and  to  tap  his  forehead  upon 
the  slats  with  the  regularity  of  a  wood 
pecker,  jabbering  monotonously  meanwhile. 

It  was  then  that  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
noticed,  between  more  smoldering  sticks,  an 
Image.  Something  about  It  held  his  strain- 


54        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

ing  eyes.  And  slowly  he  distinguished — the 
Mark. 

His  joyful  shout  startled  the  silence,  fright 
ened  Ah  Ching  from  his  devotions,  and 
aroused  the  casco  to  a  frenzied,  anxious  ex 
citement. 

Ujjin  crowed  a  protest,  Senor  Calimag 
cuffed  El  Sargento  for  sleeping,  and  the 
Policia,  gesticulating  wildly,  chattering,  gath 
ered  ahout  the  Savage.  Cautiously,  prepared 
to  dodge  any  sudden  attack,  they  approached. 

But  the  Strong  Young  Chief  had  much  to 
consider,  a  strange  Trophy  to  ponder  about, 
perhaps  a  sin  against  the  Glorious  God  to 
repent  of,  and  so  he  offered  the  men  no  re 
sistance,  but,  a  docile  Savage,  permitted  them 
to  roll  him  upon  his  back. 

Stolidly  smoking,  eyes  blinking,  Ah  Ching 
squatted  in  solitary  state  and  ignored  the 
Head-Hunter's  every  effort  to  attract  the  at 
tention  of  One  of  the  Great  People.  But 
when  exhaustion  finally  overcame  the  Savage, 
and  he  slept,  Ah  Ching  finished  his  devotions. 

In  the  morning  the  Instrument   of   God 


SIGN  OF  THE  GLORIOUS  ONE       55 

found  himself  free  of  thongs  but  wearing  an 
iron  ankle-ring  fastened  to  a  chain.  He  neg 
lected  the  food  that  the  bugadores  shoved  to 
him  at  the  end  of  bamboo  poles,  and  started 
to  crawl  to  the  inner  recesses  of  the  casco, 
whither  Ah  Ching  had  retreated  with  his  pos 
sessions.  But  the  chain  halted  him  halfway. 
Ah  Ching,  smoking  in  lonely  dignity,  ignored 
the  captive 's  gestures  and  signs  as  he  ignored 
the  fascinated  eyes  of  the  curious  faces  peer 
ing  into  the  casco.  The  Strong  Young  Chief 
squatted,  and  stared  at  One  of  the  Great  Peo 
ple.  He  wondered  if  his  failure  to  win  atten 
tion  were  a  punishment  for  taking  that  Head 
with  the  Pony's  Tail.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  indifference  of  the  Jabbering  One  might 
arise  from  inability  to  understand  the  peti 
tioner.  The  Strong  Young  Chief  knew  how 
the  latter  difficulty  might  be  removed;  the 
Universal  Language  of  the  Jungle  had  often 
served  him  as  a  means  of  communication  with 
the  members  of  alien  Mountain  Tribes. 

He  unfastened  from  the  tasseled  end  of  his 
loin-cloth  the  Image  of  the  Glorious  God, 


56        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

and  set  it  exactly  where  he  had  seen  the  other 
one  the  night  before.  Jabbering — not  that 
the  chanted  syllables  conveyed  the  thought  of 
sensible  speech,  but  in  imitation  of  him  from 
whom  he  beseeched  recognition  and  aid — 
move  for  move,  he  repeated  whatever  he 
could  remember  of  the  queer  antics  that  had 
accompanied  Pony  Tail's  worship  of  the 
Glorious  God,  even  to  tapping  the  floor  with 
his  injured  forehead. 

Ah  Ching  forgot  to  puff,  his  pipe  went  out, 
and  he,  in  turn,  stared.  "When  a  careful 
scrutiny  of  the  Mass  of  Clay  had  satisfied 
him  that  it  was  an  old,  old  Image  of  0-mi- 
to-fu,  he  understood  that  the  Head-Hunter 
meant  to  plead  for  friendship.  For  the  sake 
of  that  member  of  his  race  who,  centuries 
before,  had  become  lost  in  the  wilds  and 
whose  bones  rotted  far  from  the  Sacred  Soil 
of  China,  he  gave  the  Savage  portions  of  his 
rice,  of  his  fish,  of  his  tea,  and  of  his  chop 
sticks. 

In  the  bowl  of  tea  given  by  the  Yellow  Man 
to  the  Brown,  the  Strong  Young  Chief  dis- 


SIGN  OF  THE  GLORIOUS  ONE       57 

covered  the  Pledge  of  Faith.  Believing  that 
he  had  found  the  One  who  would  tell  him  the 
Way  to  the  Holy  Land,  he  chattered  his  joy 
and  his  tale  to  the  alien  ear  of  the  silent, 
impassive  Ah  Ching,  who  smoked  uncon 
cernedly,  and  blinked  his  eyes,  and  pondered. 


CHAPTER   VII 
Another  of  the  Great  People 

THE  rumor  that  Senor  Calimag's  casco 
was  returning  with  a  Head-Hunter 
who,  because  he  was  the  Instrument  of  God, 
had  God's  Protection,  like  El  Lunatico,  the 
Accursed  of  God,  filled  the  inhabitants  of 
Badi  with  awe  and  with  wonder.  Perhaps 
they,  doubting  the  possibility  of  civilizing  such 
a  Savage,  shivered  at  the  thought  of  having 
him  constantly  in  their  midst.  Perhaps  they 
would  have  objected,  had  they  dared  oppose 
the  Will  of  God  as  revealed  by  the  Divine 
Judgment  upon  Senor  Guarrin.  Some,  at 
least,  of  the  unfortunate  man's  adherents  re 
sented  the  interpretation  that  had  been  put 
upon  the  untoward  accident.  Senor  Padre 
Antonio  was  one  of  these.  But  such  realized 
that  caution  dictated  a  policy  of  silence  and 
delay. 

58 


ANOTHER  OP  THE  GREAT  PEOPLE  59 

Despite  fears,  or  shivers,  or  resentments, 
the  fascination  in  the  explanation  advanced 
by  Senor  Calimag's  "faction"  attracted  all 
but  the  immediate  relatives  of  Senor  Guarrin 
to  the  landing  to  see  the  famous  Savage. 

The  impressive,  cautious  preparations  to 
land  the  captive,  in  no  respect  disappointing 
expectations,  sent  a  delicious  thrill  through 
the  spectators.  With  the  chain  from  his 
ankle-ring  fastened  to  a  bamboo  pole  carried 
in  the  hands  of  five  men,  with  the  long  steel 
spikes  of  as  many  river-poles  manipulated 
by  a  second  file  of  boatmen  centred  upon  the 
vital  spot  in  his  back,  the  tasseled  ends  of  his 
loin-cloth  whipped  by  the  wind,  the  Head- 
Hunter  glared  at  the  assemblage.  His  wild 
eyes  seemed  to  pause  upon,  to  measure,  every 
neck. 

The  casco  grated  against  the  bank  and 
stopped. 

Muscles  set,  bodies  poised  to  meet  the  shock 
of  any  sudden  attempt  at  escape,  the  Policia 
gave  the  Savage  just  enough  slack  chain  to 


60        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

permit  of  his  stepping  ashore,  while  the  boat 
men  prepared  to  prod  him  into  motion. 

Often  the  unobtrusive,  the  unobserved  fac 
tor,  dominates  a  situation.  Not  an  eye  in 
all  that  gathering  was  focused  upon  the  im 
passive  Ah  Ching.  Not  a  spectator  knew 
just  at  what  moment  that  Celestial  left  the 
side  of  the  captive  or  stepped  off  the  boat. 

Great  muscles  vibrating,  head  thrown  back, 
throat  swelling  in  one  exultant  yell,  the  Head- 
Hunter  sprang  ashore.  Following  Ah  Ching, 
he  climbed  the  gradual  incline  to  the  top  of 
the  bank,  trudged  through  the  wide  lane  which 
the  mob  opened  before  his  advance. 

Spectators,  police,  boatmen,  Seiior  Cali- 
mag,  Seiior  Gumila,  were  disappointed.  No 
one  had  expected  such  a  tame  exhibition  from 
so  wild  a  Savage. 

Puzzled,  the  cavalcade  moved  along.  El 
Sargento  marched  on  one  flank,  where  all 
might  see  the  wound  on  his  leg,  and  admire. 
Seiior  Gumila  waddled  behind  the  boatmen. 
Beside  him  trudged  Senor  Calimag,  carrying 
under  one  arm  an  exultant,  noisy  Ujjin,  the 


ANOTHER  OF  THE  GREAT  PEOPLE  61 

Fowl  which  had  been  the  warning  Voice  of 
God.  El  Lunatico,  with  his  toy  sword  upon 
his  shoulder  and  leading  a  band  of  the  bolder 
town  youths,  fell  in  behind  them  and  marched 
pompously  along,  a  part  of  the  escort  to  that 
Instrument  of  God  who  likewise  had  God's 
Protection. 

Halfway  down  the  lane  through  the  crowd, 
Ah  Ching  turned  toward  his  home.  The 
Strong  Young  Chief  turned  also.  Men  scat 
tered  before  him,  women  screamed,  but  the 
chain,  suddenly  tautened,  sprawled  the  cap 
tive  upon  the  ground.  A  snarl,  the  wildly 
kicking  feet,  threw  the  nearer  crowd  surg 
ing  back  upon  the  massed  people  behind. 
Promptly,  steadily,  the  Policia  backed,  drag 
ging  the  clawing,  squirming,  yelling  Head- 
Hunter  over  the  rock-like  clods. 

The  expected,  the  desired,  had  happened. 

Many  an  awed  "Jesu!"  expressed  appre 
ciation  of  the  spectacle.  And  Senor  Gumila 
stepped  aside  that  he  might  obtain  an  unob 
structed  view.  Ujjin  sprang  from  his  perch 
at  the  first  outbreak,  and  pecked  at  the  flying, 


62       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

unshackled  foot.  Well  for  that  officious  Fowl 
that  his  attempt  failed!  A  much  agitated 
Senor  Calimag  picked  up  his  crowing  pet,  and 
restored  it  to  the  protection  afforded  by  his 
arm.  El  Sargento,  remembering  the  effec 
tiveness  of  savage  teeth,  limped  behind  the 
boatmen  with  the  spike-tipped  poles. 

His  attention  attracted  by  the  commotion, 
the  indifferent  Ah  Ching  returned,  leaned 
over  the  raging  Head-Hunter,  took  a  flaying 
arm,  and  helped  the  fallen  captive  to  his 
feet.  To  the  surprise  of  the  onlookers,  the 
Savage  became  docile  again. 

One  who,  advancing  from  the  crowd,  had 
followed  the  Celestial,  now  spoke  the  words, 
"Pax  vobiscum."  The  calm,  quiet,  reassur 
ing  tone  of  voice  drew  the  captive 's  flitting 
attention  to  the  black-robed  figure  standing 
almost  beside  One  of  the  Great  People. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  stared.  His  eyes 
roved  from  one  to  the  other,  from  him  that 
wore  the  Sign  of  the  Pony  Tail  to  him  that 
had  a  round  bald  Spot  in  the  same  place. 
Finally,  the  keen,  brilliant,  savage  eyes  came 


ANOTHER  OF  THE  GREAT  PEOPLE  63 

to  rest  upon  the  figure  clothed  in  the  loose, 
flowing,  black  robes  so  like  the  shimmery, 
lavender  robes  of  One  of  the  Great  People. 
The  differences  he  could  distinguish  left  a 

doubt  in  his  untutored  mind,  something  of 

.**** 
distrust.    But  one  test  could  not  fail. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  lifted  the  Image 
of  the  Glorious  God  between  himself  and  the 
Black-Robed  One,  and  with  a  bare  arm 
crossed  upon  his  chest,  bowed  again  and  again 
above  0-mi-to-fu. 

Puzzled,  the  Black-Robed  One  hesitated. 

"  Worship, "  droned  the  nasal  voice  of  Ah 
Ching. 

The  Black-Robed  One  glanced  at  the 
speaker. 

"  Worship, "  Ah  Ching  droned  insistently, 
monotonously. 

The  Black-Robed  One  bowed  reverently 
over  the  Crucifix  hidden  in  his  hand. 

Then  the  Strong  Young  Chief  smiled  a 
greeting  to  him  who  had  proved  himself  An 
other  of  the  Great  People,  and  permitted  Ah 
Ching  to  place  his  hand  in  the  Padre's. 


64        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

66 Pax  vobiscum,"  Padre  Antonio  answered 
to  the  Savage  who  had  God's  Protection. 
And  he,  too,  smiled. 

Wide-eyed,  awed  in  the  Presence  of  a 
Mystery,  Senor  Calimag  crossed  himself 
again  and  again. 

"Jesu!"  he  muttered.  "  The  Instrument  of 
God  recognizes  the  Servant  of  God!" 

'  *  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, ' '  yelled  El  Lunatico,  and 
laughed,  and  laughed,  and  laughed,  until 
Padre  Antonio,  taking  pity  on  the  terrified 
Senor  Calimag,  drove  the  Accursed  of  God 
away. 

Padre  Antonio  delayed  the  progress  of  the 
cavalcade  until  Ah  Ching  had  disappeared  in 
his  shack.  When  the  priest,  addressing  the 
captive  Savage  by  the  name  of  the  Mountain 
Tribe,  said,  "Come,  Calinga,"  the  Strong 
Young  Chief  obeyed,  and  followed  Another  of 
the  Great  People  toward  Senor  Calimag 's 
home. 

Chained  in  a  corner  of  the  room  in  which 
Ujjin  was  tethered,  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
angrily  plastered  the  indignant  gamester  with 


ANOTHER  OF  THE  GREAT  PEOPLE  65 

the  rice  and  be gun g  which  his  guards  had 
tossed  in  through  the  window.  Finally,  hav 
ing  vented  some  of  his  wrath  at  Another  of 
the  Great  People  for  ignoring  the  plea  made 
in  the  name  of  0-mi-to-fu,  he  set  the  Image 
of  the  Glorious  God  upon  the  floor  and  wor 
shiped.  When  the  exertion  had  tired  him, 
he  huddled  down  on  the  floor  to  sleep  until 
either  One  or  Another  of  the  Great  People 
should  come  to  teach  him  how  the  Old  Chief's 
dying  command  might  be  fulfilled. 

In  the  meantime,  Senor  Calimag  and  Senor 
Gumila  sat  in  a  front  room  of  the  house  and 
discussed  the  best  method  of  civilizing  a 
Head-Hunter.  It  was  a  weighty  argument, 
and  revealed  much  wisdom.  Senor  Calimag 
reasoned  that  the  Savage's  labor  in  the 
fields  would  repay  in  part  for  the  trouble  of 
keeping  him, 

"His  spirit  should  be  broken  before  taking 
such  a  risk,"  Senor  Gumila  maintained. 

' '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, ' '  El  Lunatico  yelled,  a 
shrill,  mocking  hail  in  greeting  that  sounded 
almost  in  the  ears  of  the  disputants. 


66       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

They  jumped,  crossed  themselves,  and 
glanced  around.  Framed  in  the  window,  and 
against  the  background  of  the  night,  were 
two  horns  of  black  hair  that  protruded 
through  rents  in  a  tattered  Spanish  military- 
cap,  and  a  yellow  calico  cross  on  a  coat  of 
sacking,  with  a  grinning  face  between.  Va 
cant  eyes  leered  at  the  two,  and  a  noisy  tongue 
chattered  senselessly. 

The  Head-Hunter,  roused  from  sleep  by  the 
Accursed  One's  cry,  called  a  savage  answer. 

El  Lunatico  leaned  on  the  window-sill,  and 
laughed  helplessly. 

Again  the  Head-Hunter  called,  a  question 
ing  cry. 

El  Lunatico  grasped  his  nose  firmly  be 
tween  thumb  and  forefinger,  lifted  his  head 
far  back,  playfully  hacked  with  his  wooden 
sword  at  the  tensed  cords  of  his  throat,  and 
gurgled. 

Senor  Gumila  yelled,  "Scat,"  and  Senor 
Calimag  hurled  a  slipper  at  the  idiotic  face. 

El  Lunatico  caught  the  missile  on  the  point 
of  his  sword,  and  waving  it,  an  improvised 


ANOTHER  OF  THE  GEEAT  PEOPLE  67 

pennant,  marched  pompously  into  the  night. 
The  demand  for  the  return  of  the  foot-gear 
he  answered  with  insane  titters,  with  a  jeer 
ing  '  '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah. ' ' 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  listened.  And 
when  the  call  came  again,  faintly,  from  afar, 
and  he  was  convinced  that  the  cry  had  not 
been  a  hail  from  either  One  or  Another  of 
the  Great  People,  he  lay  down  again,  and 
slept. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
The  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils 

IN  Senor  Calimag's  field  one  ignorante 
laborer  drove  a  carabao  before  the 
Strong  Young  Chief,  while  another  placed  in 
position  a  plough, — just  a  pointed,  mahogany 
timber  fastened  at  an  angle  to  a  horizontal 
beam,  the  brace  between  the  two  pieces  com 
pleting  a  triangle.  A  Mauser  rifle  in  Senor 
Calimag's  hands  added  to  the  precautions 
which  had  prevailed  at  the  landing  of  the 
Head-Hunter,  and  insured  the  safety  of  his 
guards. 

Arms  limp  at  his  side,  much  interested  in 
the  amusement  provided  for  him,  Calinga  ex 
amined  the  novel  instrument.  But  he  re 
fused  to  degrade  himself.  Not  even  the  black- 
robed  Senor  Padre  Antonio  could  persuade 
him  to  put  a  hand  to  the  plough.  His  express 
ive  face  betokened  a  contemptuous  disdain 

68 


MAGIC  OF  THE  GEEEN  DEVILS       69 

for  the  laborers,  for  their  docile  obedience, 
for  their  submission  to  an  animal's  work,  for 
the  toil  itself — and  now  and  then,  when  his 
keen  eyes  measured  their  necks,  for  their  fear. 
After  an  hour  of  patient  illustration  on  the 
part  of  his  teachers,  Calinga  still  stood  in  the 
same  spot,  limp  of  arm,  disdainful. 

Though  such  an  attitude  on  the  part  of  so 
uncouth  a  savage  won  from  his  captors  a 
certain  measure  of  admiration,  such  defiance 
could  not  be  tolerated.  Besides,  as  Senor 
Gumila  had  proved,  God  had  willed  that  the 
Head-Hunter's  wild  soul  should  be  tamed — 
crushed.  At  Senor  Calimag's  signal,  the 
watchful,  ready  Policia  promptly  yanked  the 
chain  fastened  to  the  Savage's  ankle, 
sprawled  the  dignified  Strong  Young  Chief 
on  the  ground,  and  backed.  Steadily,  re 
morselessly,  they  dragged  his  muscular, 
brown-skinned  body  over  the  jagged,  sharp- 
edged  clods.  Though  his  defiant,  vengeful 
yells  chilled  most  of  the  spectators,  Senor 
Gumila  closely  followed  the  kicking,  fighting 
savage,  that  he  might  miss  none  of  the  thrills 


70        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

afforded  by  such  contortions,  by  such  facial 
fury. 

Senor  Calimag  fired  the  Mauser  beside 
Calinga's  head. 

The  Voice  of  the  Thunder's  Wrath! 

"Beware  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils !" 
the  Old  Chief  had  warned;  "and  remember 
thy  Jungle  Knowledge !" 

And  Cunning  is  the  proper  Jungle-Tool 
with  which  to  meet  an  unknown  danger ! 

Thought  was  instantaneous.  The  flaying 
arms  and  clawing  fingers  were  stilled  in  mid 
air,  the  ferocious  facial  spasms  flashed  away, 
and  with  scarcely  a  touch  of  fear,  his  ex 
pression  settled  into  a  blank  mask  of 
vacancy. 

All  day  a  passive,  mild,  docile  Savage  fol 
lowed  the  plow,  and  obeyed.  But  never  did 
he  fail  to  note,  with  eye  or  with  ear,  the 
whereabouts  of  him  who  carried  the  Stick 
that  held  the  hidden  Magic  of  the  Green 
Devils. 

At  night,  when  the  terrible  Instrument  was 
gone,  a  sullen  Savage  raged  in  his  cage, — 


MAGIC  OF  THE  GEEEN  DEVILS       71 

and  tore  at  the  chain  that  bound  him, — and 
planned  escape  from  his  ignominious  fate, — 
while  0-mi-to-fu,  forgotten,  dangled  at  the 
end  of  his  loin-cloth;  for  the  Strong  Young 
Chief's  thoughts  were  afar,  with  the  Fire- 
Tree,  with  the  Trophies  secreted  in  the  Moun 
tain  Lair,  with  the  Comeliest  Maid  of  the 
Tribe.  Even  Ujjin's  lusty,  noisy  clamor 
failed  to  distract  his  savage  mind  from  such 
sweet  memories. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Senor  Calimag,  car 
rying  his  gun  and  guarded  by  an  escort  of 
Policia,  came  to  practice  his  gamester.  With 
a  joyous  crow,  Uj  jin  greeted  his  Master, — and 
lovingly  pecked  Senor  Calimag 's  brown 
ankle, — and  ruffled  his  feathers,  charged  an 
imaginary  adversary,  and  strutted,  as  was 
his  custom,  at  the  Master's  praises  and 
caresses. 

In  the  opposite  corner,  a  mild,  blank-faced 
Calinga  squatted  and  pretended  to  doze.  But 
his  eyelids  were  not  quite  closed.  Through 
the  slits  between  them,  he  observed  every 
detail  in  the  art  of  training  a  gamester, — and 


72        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

measured  the  neck  of  every  oppressor,  espe 
cially  of  him  who  carried  the  Magic  of  the 
Green  Devils.  Against  the  day  of  reckoning, 
each  calculation  was  tabulated  and  stored  in 
his  memory.  But  only  his  deep  breathing 
hinted  at  the  lust  for  vengeance  that  domi 
nated  the  turmoil  of  his  mind. 

Vespers  tolled.  The  solemn,  majestic  bell 
silenced  Ujjin  and  the  crowd.  Reverently, 
Senor  Calimag  and  the  Policia  gathered  in  a 
third  corner  of  the  room.  Curiosity  roused 
Calinga  from  his  feigned  lethargy,  and  his 
inquisitive  eyes  followed  the  movements  of 
the  men.  They  bowed,  and  scraped,  and 
chanted.  Calinga  stared.  And  then,  his  eyes 
gaining  a  better  focus  for  the  dimmer  twi* 
light,  he  discovered  the  object  of  their  devcn 
tions. 

Such  a  strange,  strange  God !  Just  a  white, 
white,  painted  Image  of  a  MAN  !  A  Man  that 
hung  by  hands  and  feet  from  Crossed  Sticks  1 
And  wore  a  Loop  of  Thorns  upon  His  head ! 
And  had  dark  blue  Daubs  upon  His  brow  and 
palms  and  feet!  And  from  the  mark  of  an- 


MAGIC  OF  THE  GEEEN  DEVILS       73 

other  wound  had  a  purple-edged  streak  of 
blue  traced  down  his  painted,  white  side! 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  sneered.  He 
almost  laughed  aloud  at  such  a  God,  at  the 
ignorance  of  them  that  could  not  call  upon 
the  Glorious  God,  but  must  worship  the 
painted  Image  of  a  hunted,  dying  Man.  His 
hopes  revived  again.  He  exulted.  Let  them 
worship!  What  succor  could  that  God  give 
them  against  a  vengeance  inspired  by  a  Ter 
rible  God!  Just  wait!  Pony  Tail  would 
come  to  release  the  Captive  One,  and  would 
call  upon  the  Glorious  God  to  avenge  the 
Descendant  of  the  Great  People,  and  his  op 
pressors  would  learn  of  the  Might  of  0-mi- 
to-f u,  and  would  cringe !  And  the  Fire-Tree 
still  bloomed,  would  be  blooming  then!  Ca- 
linga  set  the  Image  of  the  Glorious  God  upon 
the  floor,  and  worshiped  until  he  was  alone 
again  with  the  dozing  Ujjin, — and  with  the 
dull,  dull  white  Daub. 

Something  about  that  white,  white  Man- 
Image  seemed  to  reach  out,  to  grip  the  Strong 
Young  Chief,  to  force  Itself  upon  his  atten- 


74       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

tion.  Again  and  again  It  drew  his  eyes,  al 
though  he  resented  Its  fascination.  At  last, 
in  exasperation,  he  gave  expression  to  his 
contempt  for  such  a  God;  with  deadly  accu 
racy  and  vindictive  sweeps  of  his  arm,  he 
slathered  the  Thing  with  boiled  rice, — until 
the  blue  Daubs  were  white. 

A  noisy  chatter,  an  empty,  tittering  laugh, 
startled  him  from  this  satisfying  amusement. 
In  the  window  an  idiotic  face,  surmounted 
by  two  horns  of  hair,  laughed  and  jabbered 
at  Calinga! 

"One  like  me,  with  the  Protection  of  God," 
El  Lunatico  declared  in  explanation  of  his 
fellow  feeling. 

Though  Calinga  pointedly  ignored  the  in 
truder,  the  senseless  chatter,  his  indifference 
in  no  wise  disconcerted  the  Accursed  One. 
Besting  his  bared,  brown,  muscular  forearms 
on  the  window-sill,  El  Lunatico  held  up  his 
long,  pointed,  broad,  wooden  sword,  the  toy 
weapon  with  a  handle  that  would  have  hon 
ored  a  war-bolo. 


MAGIC  OF  THE  GEEEN  DEVILS       75 

Just  then  the  Savage  plastered  the  last 
handful  of  rice  upon  the  face  of  the  Daub. 

"Jesu!"  El  Lunatico  exclaimed,  and 
promptly,  vigorously,  crossed  himself.  But 
observing  Calinga's  interest  in  his  sword,  he 
forgot  his  agitation  and  proudly  exhibited 
the  beauty  of  the  handle  and  of  the  carvings 
on  the  blade. 

That  imitation  bolo  fascinated  the  Strong 
Young  Chief ;  especially  so  did  the  wonderful 
handle,  the  realistic  handle.  It  recalled  mem 
ories  of  his  Trophies,  of  his  prowess. 

El  Lunatico  remembered  the  gift  he  had 
brought  for  his  new  friend.  From  a  hiding 
place  writhin  his  coat  of  sacking,  he  drew  a 
sprig  of  the  crimson  Fire-Tree,  fastened  it 
to  the  end  of  his  sword,  and  with  many  a  bow 
offered  it  to  the  Head-Hunter. 

Once  more  the  Strong  Young  Chief  thought 
of  the  Comeliest  Maid,  of  the  Mountain  Tribe, 
of  home.  He  accepted  the  gift  and  caressed 
the  blooms. 

Then  El  Lunatico  threw  back  his  head  and 


76       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

sawed  at  the  tautened  cords  in  his  neck,  and 
gurgled. 

Just  then  an  angry  guard  dragged  the 
protesting  El  Lunatico  from  his  perch,  and 
chased  that  individual  away. 

"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  El  Lunatico  howled  in 
derision,  a  wild,  mocking  cry. 


CHAPTER  IX 
When  "Pony  Tail"  Remembered 

PONY  TAIL  never  came.  Night  after 
night,  the  Strong  Young  Chief  paced 
and  listened,  but  only  the  clank  of  his  chain 
rewarded  his  patience.  The  absolute  deser 
tion  of  Pony  Tail  and  the  Black-Eobed  One 
baffled  him.  Nor  could  he  understand  why 
they  and  0-mi-to-fu  allowed  the  Stick  that 
hid  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils  to  be  al 
ways  present, — to  threaten  him,  to  mock  his 
futile  rage,  to  fill  him  with  despair,  to  im 
press  upon  him  a  sense  of  utter  helplessness. 
Sometimes  he  consoled  himself  with  the  hope 
that  the  Glorious  God  was  only  punishing 
him  for  his  sin  in  taking  the  Trophy  with  the 
Pony  Tail,  and  had  not  forgotten  him,  but 
would  relent  when  he  had  suffered  enough, 
and  forgive  him  for  that  sin  of  ignorance. 

Because  it  is  not  in  the  savage  nature  to 

77 


78        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

endure  captivity,  lie  chafed  at  0-mi-to-fu's 
delay  in  freeing  him.  He  would  have  sur 
rendered  his  hope  entirely,  if  El  Lunatico's 
nightly  gifts  of  the  blood-red  blooms  had  not 
been  an  Omen.  But  since  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  interpreted  the  flowers,  what  they  sug 
gested  to  him,  as  a  divine  coumand  from 
0-mi-to-fu,  he  planned  escape — and  ven 
geance. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  a  few  straggling 
red  flowers  still  clung  to  the  Fire-Tree,  but 
most  of  them  had  withered  and  fallen.  Those 
few,  all  that  they  suggested  of  the  Comeliest 
Maid  and  of  a  Rival  who  might  claim  her, 
harried  the  savage  soul  of  the  Strong  Young 
Chief,  while  the  dead  blossoms  warned  him 
of  the  flight  of  time. .  Yet  his  guards,  and 
others  who  came  in  contact  with  him,  had  no 
suspicion  that  his  attitude  of  utter  meek 
ness  was  a  mask,  a  defensive  weapon  against 
dangers  he  did  not  understand,  but  feared. 
Senor  Calimag  attributed  his  docility  to  the 
efficacy  of  the  methods  employed  in  subduing 
him.  But  if  Senor  Calimag  had  ever  heard 


"PONY  TAIL"  REMEMBERED       79 

the  Legend  of  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils, 
he  might  have  fathomed  the  bitter,  seething, 
vindictive  rage  behind  that  quiet  exterior, 
he  might  have  suspected  the  occupation  of 
the  vacant,  indolent  eyes,  he  might  have  sur 
mised  the  import  of  the  neck  measurements 
stored  up  in  the  savage  memory.  And  if  he 
had  guessed  the  truth,  Calinga's  meekness 
would  never  have  been  credited  to  a  broken 
spirit,  nor  would  Seiior  Calimag  have  re 
moved  from  field  duty  the  guard  who  carried 
the  Municipality's  sole  Mauser  rifle,  nor 
would  El  Sargento,  expert  wielder  of  the 
weighted  cord,  have  trusted  himself  and  such 
a  weapon  alone  with  the  Savage. 

Calinga  immediately  discovered  the  ab 
sence  of  the  Stick  that  hid  the  Magic  of  the 
Green  Devils.  Just  as  soon  as  he  had  con 
vinced  himself  that  the  evil  Charm  was  really 
gone,  he  grabbed  the  unsuspecting  Sargento 
in  his  powerful  arms,  lifted  the  screaming 
figure  high  in  the  air,  and  hurled  the  guard  to 
the  ground,  a  senseless  mass. 

El  Sargento 's  terrified  cries   roused  the 


80        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

town,  but  the  racing  Head-Hunter 's  exultant, 
threatening  yells,  adding  to  the  confusion, 
scattered  from  his  path  such  townsmen  as 
had  rushed  out  from  their  shacks  to  investi 
gate,  or  to  interfere.  The  Policia,  springing 
up  from  their  siestas  or  idle  games  of  chance, 
all  jumped  for  the  single  Mauser  rifle,  and 
madly  fought  each  other  for  possession  of 
it,  until  Seiior  Gumila's  cool,  satirical  voice 
finally  silenced  the  uproar.  El  Lunatico, 
safely  hidden  in  a  clump  of  brush  at  the  time 
of  the  outbreak,  sprang  out  into  the  road 
when  the  Savage  had  passed,  and  loped  after 
the  Head-Hunter,  and  yelled  in  imitation  of 
the  wild  cries,  and  gurgled,  and  sawed  his 
sword  across  his  throat. 

Calinga  raced  towards  a  barricade  of  stores 
along  the  river  bank. 

Unconcerned,  impassive,  Ah  Ching  lounged 
in  the  doorway  of  his  shack,  and  watched  the 
flight  of  the  unarmed  Savage.  The  Strong 
Young  Chief  hailed  One  of  the  Great  Peo 
ple,  and  in  supplication  held  aloft  in  a  brown 
hand  the  Image  of  0-mi-to-fu.  That  appeal 


"PONY  TAIL"  REMEMBERED       81 

reached  the  Chino.  For  the  sake  of  the  Sav 
age's  Chinese  Ancestor,  whose  bones,  like 
those  of  Li  Choy  Sang,  rotted  in  unhallowed 
ground  far  from  the  sacred  soil  of  China,  Ah 
Ching  opened  the  river-door  at  the  rear  of  his 
store. 

Just  as  Calinga  sprang  for  the  street  en 
trance,  Sefior  Gumila  fired.  Calinga  clapped 
his  hand  to  the  spot  upon  his  thigh  where  the 
Magic  of  the  Green  Devils  had  stabbed  him, 
tumbled  to  the  brick  floor,  and  cowered.  Ah 
Ching  shoved  the  Savage  into  his  secret 
money-vault,  replaced  the  section  of  brick 
flooring,  and  threw  a  mat  over  the  trap-door. 

When  the  Policia  and  Sefior  Gumila,  the 
latter  carrying  the  Mauser  cocked  and  ready 
to  fire,  cautiously  entered,  they  were  forced 
to  drag  a  trembling  Ah  Ching  from  under  the 
counter  above  the  hidden  vault.  An  Ching 
was  a  willing  witness,  but  a  badly  frightened 
one.  Talking  incoherently,  he  told  them  all 
about  it.  The  sum  of  his  information  was,  * '  I 
have  much  fear,  Senores.  Through  one  door 
the  Savage  came.  Out  of  the  other  and 


82        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

toward  the  river  the  Savage  went,  Senores; 
I  have  much  fear,  Seiiores." 

Since  their  careful  search  revealed  no  trace 
of  Calinga  within  the  shop,  and  the  open 
door  substantiated  Ah  Ching's  chattered  as 
sertion,  they  were  forced  to  accept  his  state 
ment,  despite  Senor  Calimag's  certainty  that 
no  Savage  had  issued  from  the  rear  door. 
But  later,  when  they  placed  the  patrol  of 
guards  about  the  town,  they  surrounded  Ah 
Ching's  store. 

That  night,  when  all  was  quiet,  Ah  Ching 
lifted  the  trap-door,  helped  Calinga  out  from 
the  cramped  quarters,  washed  and  dressed 
the  flesh  wound,  gave  the  Head-Hunter  food 
and  drink,  and  slipped  the  fugitive  out  of  the 
river-door. 

El  Sargento  was  waiting.  Crouched  in  a 
crevice  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  with  only  his 
head  above  the  earth-line,  he  watched  the 
Savage  creep  warily  past  a  sentry  and  on 
toward  the  security  of  the  open  country. 
With  a  mixture  of  fear  and  uncertainty,  of 
exultation  and  determination,  El  Sargento 


"PONY  TAIL"  EEMEMBEEED       83 

clasped  one  iron  ball  firmly  in  both  hands 
and  swung  the  other  over  his  head,  slowly 
at  first  but  with  increasing  speed,  until  like  a 
razor  the  tautened,  humming,  deer-thong 
cord  clipped  the  tips  of  the  grass.  Calinga 
was  so  intent  upon  avoiding  the  conspicuous 
sentries  and  the  Magic  Stick,  upon  suppress 
ing  any  outcry  because  of  the  pain  of  his 
wound,  that  he  failed  to  detect  the  faint 
warning  whirr  and  whizz.  When  at  what  he 
considered  a  safe  distance,  he  stood  erect, 
the  cutting  slash  of  the  cord  across  his  back 
surprised  him.  Before  his  tensed  muscles 
could  respond  to  his  will,  the  thong,  coiling 
and  twisting  about  his  body  like  a  python, 
bound  his  arms  to  his  sides.  One  iron  ball 
thudded  above  his  heart,  the  other  upon  the 
small  of  his  back — and  Calinga  dropped  in  an 
unconscious  heap. 

El  Sargento's  triumphant  summons 
brought  all  of  the  guards  to  his  aid.  In  their 
estimation,  the  first  requisite  of  the  task  be 
fore  them  was  haste,  great  haste  in  returning 
the  dangerous  fugitive  to  his  chains.  Bind- 


84       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

ing  the  limp  Savage's  hands  to  his  feet  and 
suspending  him  from  a  bamboo  pole,  like  a 
Chino's  fruit-basket,  the  Policia  swung  the 
support  upon  their  shoulders  and  carried  the 
Head-Hunter  back  to  the  tether  from  which 
he  had  escaped  that  morning. 

Senores  Calimag  and  Gumila  stared  at  the 
bandage  upon  Calinga  's  thigh ;  they  pondered 
upon  that  incriminating  evidence  against  Ah 
Ching. 

"So?"  Seiior  Gumila  drawled.  "It  seems 
that  Ah  Ching  is  a  wilful  liar." 

"Ah  Ching  needs  another  flogging,"  Senor 
Calimag  snapped,  a  decision  of  which  his 
henchman  approved,  because  the  Chino  had 
given  sufficient  provocation  for  it. 

El  Sargento  nursed  his  bruises  ostenta 
tiously. 

"And  the  Savage,  too?"  he  begged. 

Senor  Calimag  nodded. 

But  Calinga  did  not  care ;  he  did  not  under 
stand,  and  besides,  he  knew  that  Pony  Tail 
had  not  forgotten  him. 


CHAPTER   X 
The  Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand 

THE  thong-bound  Savage  met  the  curious 
stares  of  the  assembled  people  with  a 
proud,  contemptuous  defiance.  Idly  he 
measured  the  Craning  Necks,  and  puzzled 
over  the  Mystery  involved  in  such  a  great 
gathering,  puzzled  over  his  own  presence  in 
its  midst.  It  was  all  mysterious.  But  the 
whole  trend  of  events  since  he  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  effeminate  Valley  People,  the 
details  of  his  imprisonment,  the  labor  in  the 
field,  the  purpose  of  it  all,  had  been  mysteri 
ous.  As  he  knew  life  and  existence,  a  quick 
death  should  have  been  his  portion.  In  what 
had  been  was  contradiction,  confusion,  plain 
mystery.  Even  this  great  concourse  of  peo 
ple,  his  own  bonds,  might  resolve  themselves 
into  another  Mystery.  Calinga  could  only 
surmise  their  meaning.  If  his  inf erejice  were 

85 


86       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

correct,  they  were  assembled  to  witness  Ms 
death.  That,  at  least,  would  be  no  Mystery, 
and  he  could  meet  such  a  fate  witfi  a  stoical 
disdain  that  would  deny  the  Craning  Necks 
whatever  gratification  they  had  expected  to 
gain  out  of  the  spectacle. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  still  hoped  for 
0-mi-to-fu's  interposition  in  his  behalf,  and 
his  eyes  roved  about  in  his  search  for  Pony 
Tail,  who  had  not  forgotten  him,  or  for  the 
Black-Eobed  One  who  had.  He  found  neither 
One  nor  Another  of  the  Great  People. 
Though  he  was  conscious  of  El  Sargento 
sauntering  so  nonchalantly  around  him,  Ca- 
linga  seemed  oblivious  of  that  individual's 
presence.  But  as  the  coiling,  twisting  snake 
fascinates  the  bird,  so  the  heavy  laced-thong 
whip  that  El  Sargento  lazily  swished,  and 
curled,  and  snapped,  fascinated  the  Savage. 
Calinga  speculated  upon  what  part  that  lash 
and  its  wielder  would  play  in  the  perform 
ances  of  this  day. 

Calinga 's  eyes  rested  upon  a  young  girl. 
In  her  face  was  none  of  the  anticipation  he 


WOMAN  WITH  THE  BEAND       87 

had  observed  in  those  of  the  Craning  Necks. 
Her  dark,  fathomless  eyes  spoke  to  him,  like 
the  Comeliest  Maid's,  of  compassion,  of  pity, 
of  something  more,  perhaps  of  admiration 
for  his  savage  indifference  to  his  fate,  or  for 
the  magnificent  physique.  Calinga  stared, 
stared  until  she,  in  confusion,  dropped  her 
eyes,  stared  until  others,  observing  his  in 
terest,  sought  for  the  object  that  attracted 
him. 

El  Sargento  swore. 

The  Policia  dumped  the  fettered  AL.  Ching 
beside  the  Strong  Young  Chief.  The  predica 
ment  of  One  of  the  Great  People  puzzled  Ca 
linga.  He  called,  but  the  impassive  Celestial 
studiously  kept  his  back  to  the  Head-Hunter. 
That  Mystery  discouraged  the  Savage,  per 
plexed  him.  But  he  had  little  time  for  medi 
tation. 

The  Policia  cut  Ah  Ching 's  bonds,  flung 
the  Chino  upon  the  top  of  the  low  brick  wall 
before  the  church,  and,  two  to  each  arm  and 
foot,  held  him  so  that  he  could  not  escape 
the  full  fury  of  the  blows.  An  intense  silence 


88        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

settled  upon  the  assemblage.  Whip  in  hand, 
El  Sargento  advanced. 

The  first  blow  fell. 

Calinga  exulted.  He  sneered.  In  their 
ignorance,  they  dared  inflict  that  indignity 
upon  One  of  the  Great  People,  upon  Pony 
Tail,  who  was  wise  in  the  worship  of  the 
Glorious  God !  And  they  defied  the  warning 
of  the  Black-Eobed  One,  who  walked  indig 
nantly  away  when  they  ignored  his  protest! 

Senor  Gumila  saw  the  expression  of  exul 
tation  upon  Calinga 's  face,  but  mistook  it 
for  an  artistic  appreciation  of  El  Sargento 's 
skill  in  laying  on  the  lash. 

"Jesu!  The  devil!  See  how  the  Savage 
enjoys  it!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  he'll  wear 
another  expression  when  he  is  feeling  those 
blows,"  he  laughed.  On  the  other  hand, 
Senor  Calimag  detected  something  of  the 
intense  hatred  in  Calinga  ?s  eyes.  He  shiv 
ered. 

The  last  blow  fell. 

Calinga 's  muscular  body,  stretched  at  full 
length,  quickly  replaced  Ah  Ching's.  His 


WOMAN  WITH  THE  BEAND       89 

savage,  vengeful  eyes  glared  a  denial  of  his 
fascination  in  the  cutting,  humming,  whis 
tling  swish  of  the  lash.  It  stung  the  breadth 
of  the  bare  shoulders. 

Other  than  a  spasmodic  tension  of  the  great 
muscles,  a  twitch,  a  quiver,  there  was  no 
response.  The  gritted  jaws  gave  forth  no 
sound. 

El  Sargento  stared. 

"Jesu!"  he  exclaimed. 

He  stepped  further  back,  and  swung  with 
greater  power. 

But  the  blow,  though  more  effective  than 
the  first,  though  it  bit  a  bloody,  purpling, 
swelling  welt  across  the  bare  back  and 
won  Senor  Gumila's  appreciative  applause, 
earned  no  more  than  the  first. 

El  Sargento  stared  again. 

"Jesu!  Is  not  that  an  expert  blow?"  he 
demanded. 

And,  although  he  exhausted  himself  with 
his  exertions,  and  left  the  unconscious  Ca- 
linga's  back  a  checkered  mass  of  fiery,  flam 
ing,  awesome  burns,  his  best  efforts  won  no 


90        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

more  than  a  twisting  quiver,  a  twitching  ten 
sion  of  the  muscles. 

El  Sargento  confessed  his  chagrin.  He 
glanced  over  the  silent  crowd  in  acknowledg 
ment  of  his  failure  to  win  one  scream, — and 
met  the  contemptuous  eyes  of  the  girl  like 
the  Comeliest  Maid.  Behind  her,  El  Luna- 
tico  leered.  That  harmless  individual  im 
mediately  threw  back  his  head,  gurgled,  and 
began  to  hack  industriously  at  the  cords  in 
his  throat.  When  El  Sargento  hurled  the 
heavy,  bloody  whip  at  the  mocking  face,  El 
Lunatico  received  the  much  prized  lash  with  a 
vacant ' '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, ' '  and  made  off  with 
it. 

That  night  a  wrinkled  hag,  she  whom  they 
called  "Ana,"  and  that  once  had  been  Seiior 
Calimag's  favorite  ignorante  mistress, 
slipped  into  the  room  where  they  had  left 
Calinga  chained.  In  her  hands  she  brought 
water  and  the  soothing  lotions  which  Padre 
Antonio  had  given  her  to  apply  to  the  Sav 
age's  wounds.  Squatted  between  basins  and 
the  Head-Hunter,  she  who  had  known  sorrow 


WOMAN  WITH  THE  BRAND       91 

and  pain,  turned  the  limp  form  upon  its  face 
and  washed  the  raw  wounds  clean.  The 
vague  Shadow  in  her  eyes  gave  them  a  keener 
vision  to  detect  suffering,  and  what  she  had 
known  of  existence  gave  an  added  tenderness 
to  the  touch  of  the  gentle  fingers. 

El  Lunatico,  peeking  through  the  window 
and  discovering  her  there,  promptly  stole  in 
and  crept  toward  the  pair.  Though  the  click 
of  his  toy  sword  upon  the  slat  floor  betrayed 
his  presence,  the  woman  ignored  his  stealthy 
approach.  He  squatted  beside  her  and 
stared  in  silent  awe  at  the  flaming  raw 
streaks.  When  his  curiosity  led  him  to  poke 
his  finger  into  them,  the  woman  slapped  the 
unruly  hands,  and  chided  the  Irresponsible 
One.  But  the  indefinable  pathos  in  the  tone 
of  her  voice  turned  the  reproof  into  a  caress. 

El  Lunatico  laughed,  and  chattered  a  sense 
less  jumble  of  little  nothings  remembered 
from  other  days.  Since  Ana  ignored  him, 
since  she  failed  to  appreciate  the  humorous 
possibilities  that  pleased  him,  his  busy,  idle 
hands  began  to  hack  in  pantomime  at  his 


92        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

corded  throat.  The  woman  caught  them  in 
her  own,  and  again  rebuked  the  Accursed 
One. 

"No,  no,  Pedro,  not  that;  not  that,  poor 
lad,"  she  said, — and  gave  him  a  damp  cloth 
with  which  to  bathe  the  fevered  face,  and 
taught  him  how  to  moisten  the  lips. 

Calinga's  first  conscious  sight  fell  upon 
these  two.  He  studied  first  one  face  and 
then  the  other.  As  he  knew  the  Man  with 
the  Bolo,  as  the  ministrations  of  the  Stranger 
were  soothing,  he  permitted  the  Woman  with 
the  Smoldering  Brand  in  her  Mouth  to  rub 
his  wrists  and  ankles  where  the  thongs  had 
deadened  them,  until  he  slept. 


CHAPTEE   XI 
Tethered  Beside  a  Noisy  Bird 

FOB  a  week  Calinga  tossed  in  a  fever. 
During  it,  grim  phantoms  came  to  tor 
ment  him.  Sometimes  the  Old  Chief  chased 
him  with  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils,  until, 
screaming  a  protest,  he  started  up  and  chafed 
his  wounds.  Or  it  would  seem  to  him  that 
the  Wielder  of  the  Lash  belabored  him  with 
the  Pony  Tail  on  the  Trophy  hidden  in  the 
Mountain  Lair.  Again,  the  Trophy  with  the 
boar-like  neck  would  be  transformed,  even 
while  he  boasted  of  his  prowess  in  taking  it, 
into  the  head  of  the  Comeliest  Maid  of  the 
Tribe.  Or  the  Girl  that  was  like  the  Comeliest 
Maid,  she  whom  he  had  seen  among  the  spec 
tators,  would  smash  the  Glorious  God  with 
a  sprig  of  the  Fire-Tree,  and  a  white,  white 
Image  of  a  Man  that  hung  from  Crossed 

Sticks  would  spring  up  out  of  the  fragments. 

93 


94       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Throughout  his  delirium,  he  was  conscious 
of  three  visitors,  either  of  whom  always 
broke  the  spell  of  the  phantoms.  Sometimes 
the  Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand  in 
her  Mouth  came  at  night  to  bathe  his  wounds. 
Sometimes  the  Black-Eobed  One  brought  the 
soothing  Charms.  The  Man  with  the  Bolo 
always  came.  Calinga  never  forgot  the  im 
pression  of  their  visits. 

But  on  the  morning  when  he  awakened  to 
consciousness,  he  was  alone, — and  his  eyes 
opened  upon  the  Image  of  that  Man-God  Who 
had  so  often  dominated  his  delirious  mo 
ments.  Calinga  shuddered  at  the  shock,  and 
it  was  some  time  before  he  could  regain  his 
composure.  Then  he  regarded  the  dull  Daub 
with  a  sullen,  dignified,  silent  hatred.  As  far 
as  any  active  manifestation  of  his  contempt 
was  concerned,  he  could  afford  to  ignore  the 
False  God  of  the  effeminate  Valley  People. 
Had  not  they  inflicted  an  unpardonable  in 
dignity  upon  One  of  the  Great  People?  And 
would  not  Pony  Tail  call  upon  0-mi-to-fu? 
"The  vengeance  of  the  Glorious  God  is  ter- 


BESIDE  A  NOISY  BIRD  95 

rible,"  the  Old  Chief  had  taught.  So  a  sav 
age  exultation  filled  the  Strong  Young  Chief. 
And  whenever  Ujjin  rolled  forth  a  joyous, 
defiant,  exultant  crow,  Calinga  laughed  ex 
pectantly,  and  contemplated  the  beautiful 
curve  and  stretch  of  that  worthy  Fowl's  neck, 
and  recalled  the  measurements  of  every  op 
pressor's  neck. 

Day  after  day  Calinga  waited  for  some 
sign  of  the  Glorious  God's  vengeance.  None 
came.  He  waited  for  his  fellow  victim, — and 
he  never  came.  But  Another  of  the  Great 
People  always  came,  and  held  his  arms  above 
Calinga 's  head,  and  said,  "Pax  vobiscum," 
and  then  kneeled  in  his  black  robes  beside  the 
captive,  and  soothed  the  wounds  with  the 
strange  Charms.  And  the  Man  with  the  Bolo 
brought  dead  sprigs  of  the  Fire-Tree.  And 
sometimes  the  Woman  with  the  Smoldering 
Brand  brought  his  food.  And  occasionally 
the  Master  came  to  visit  the  Noisy  Bird.  It 
was  all  mysterious  to  Calinga.  There  was 
Mystery  in  the  visits  that  were  made,  and 


96        THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Mystery  in  the  failure  of  Pony  Tail.  The 
mysterious  depressed  Calinga. 

Then  one  night  the  Black-Kobed  One 
brought  many  flat  images  in  which  One  Man 
stood  alone,  and  the  others  knelt,  and  every 
figure  wore  colored  robes  like  those  of  the 
Great  People.  And  the  Lonely  Figure  with 
the  bright  Moon-Circle  above  His  head  was 
the  same  in  every  flat  image!  The  Lonely 
Figure  was  the  white,  white  Man  that  hung 
upon  the  Crossed  Sticks! 

That  puzzled  Calinga.  But  the  Mystery  of 
the  Black-Eobed  One's  relation  to  the  Dying 
God  was  quickly  settled.  Vespers  tolled,  and 
the  Black-Eobed  One  knelt  before  the  strange, 
white  Man-God.  Fascinated,  Calinga  ob 
served  the  devotions  and  listened  to  the  quiet 
voice.  His  savage,  untutored  ear  failed  to 
distinguish  the  differences  between  Ah 
Ching's  nasal  chant  and  this  telling  the  Beads 
of  the  Rosary.  Somber-hued  robes  and  a 
kneeling  worshiper  were  sufficient  to  impress 
upon  his  mind  a  similarity  to  the  devotions 
of  One  of  the  Great  People.  Yet,  without 


BESIDE  A  NOISY  BIRD  97 

distinguishing  its  nature,  he  felt  that  a  dif 
ference  existed,  that  in  spite  of  the  likenesses 
in  the  devotions  of  Pony  Tail  and  the  Black- 
Robed  One,  their  Gods  were  not  the  same. 
And  instead  of  the  name,  0-mi-to-fu,  repeated 
over  and  over,  he  heard  another,  Jesu 
Christo. 

Because  of  what  the  Black-Robed  One  had 
been  to  him,  and  of  what  One  of  the  Great 
People  had  failed  to  be,  Calinga  began  to 
doubt  the  Glorious  God.  Yet  he  felt  himself 
tricked ;  he  felt  that  his  discovery  had  taken 
the  Black-Robed  One  away  from  him,  and  he 
resented  the  loss.  Deserted,  a  prisoner, 
chained  in  a  cage  at  night,  like  a  Noisy  Bird, 
he  raged  and  stormed.  And  always  Ujjin 
crowed,  and  always  the  Man  that  hung  from 
Sticks  stared  down  upon  him  with  a  dull,  dull- 
white  indifference.  That  contemptuous  dis 
dain  maddened  Calinga.  He  shook  his  fist 
at  the  False  God.  In  a  frenzy  of  despair  he 
set  0-mi-to-fu  upon  the  floor,  and  his  devo 
tions  transformed  themselves  into  a  Prayer 
for  Vengeance. 


98       THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Ujjin  flapped  his  wings  and  crowed  in 
scorn. 

Calinga  stretched  forth  his  muscular  arm 
and  clinched  his  wiry  fingers  as  though  he 
would  wring  the  scoffer's  neck. 

Ujjin  blinked,  and  crowed  again,  con 
temptuously. 

Next  day  Calinga  received  double  proof  of 
the  futility  of  his  prayers.  In  the  morning 
Pony  Tail  deliberately  avoided  the  Lonely 
Captive,  and  later  his  guard  repaid  a  piece 
of  wilful  insubordination  with  a  few  stinging 
cuts  of  the  lash.  The  utter  absence  of  fear 
on  the  part  of  the  flogger  impressed  Calinga, 
and  he  pondered  the  whole  day  through,  con 
trasting  the  False  God  of  the  effeminate  Val 
ley  People  with  the  Glorious  God  of  the  Great 
People. 

Pony  Tail  submitted  to  a  disgraceful  in 
dignity  without  a  single  effort  to  retaliate. 
And  the  Glorious  God  had  not  intervened  to 
defend  One  of  the  Great  People.  That  God 
even  had  allowed  the  Green  Devils  to  anni 
hilate  his  Servants  with  the  Magic  of  the 


BESIDE  A  NOISY  BIRD  99 

Green  Devils.  Calinga  felt  the  fresh  scar 
on  his  own  thigh.  But  this  False  God  of  the 
Valley  People  taught  His  Servants  to  strike 
their  enemies,  as  they  had  stricken  him.  And 
He  gave  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils  to 
the  effeminate  Valley  People  that  they  might 
master  their  enemies,  even  the  Sons  of  the 
Great  People !  Perhaps  this  Jesu  Ckristo  was 
a  more  powerful  God  than  0-mi-to-fu ! 

That  night  the  Black-Robed  One  found  Ca 
linga  absorbed  in  studying  the  pictures  of 
the  Lonely  Figure  with  the  outstretched, 
beckoning  arms,  and  the  Image  of  the  Suffer 
ing  God.  Extending  his  hands  above  the 
crouching  Savage,  just  as  the  Lonely  Figure 
extended  His  above  those  that  knelt,  Seiior 
Padre  spoke  a  solemn  "Pax  v  obi-scum." 

Awed,  he  knew  not  why,  Calinga  crouched 
closer. 

Later  he  placed  the  Image  of  the  Glorious 
God  upon  the  floor,  and  stuck  a  withered 
stalk  of  the  Fire-Tree  in  its  arms.  Then  he 
compared  the  grinning,  hideous  face  of  0- 


100      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

mi-to-fu  with  the  white,  white  face  of  Jesu 
Christ  o. 

The  Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand 
found  him  so.  The  vague  Shadow  of  Sorrow 
in  her  eyes,  the  indefinable  Pathos  in  her 
"Pobre  Calinga,"  soothed  him,  and  gave  him 
confidence  in  her.  He  tried  to  make  her  un 
derstand,  tried  to  tell  her  that  he  did  not 
want  the  food  she  had  brought,  tried  to  tell 
her  that  the  Mysteries  tormented  him,  tried 
to  beg  her  for  an  explanation. 

Again  and  again  the  pathetic  voice  re 
peated,  "Pobre  Calinga,"  until  he  obeyed  her 
signs  and  ate  his  food. 

When  she  had  gone,  he  turned  bitterly  to 
his  contemplation  of  the  white,  white  Man- 
Image  and  of  the  grinning  idol.  Later  he 
relegated  the  Image  of  0-mi-to-fu  to  an  abid 
ing  place  upon  a  log  under  the  floor. 

With  the  early  moon,  the  Man  with  the 
Bolo  crawled  through  the  window  and  squat 
ted  beneath  that  opening  in  the  wall.  For 
hours  the  chattering,  jabbering  Accursed 
One,  whom  God  protected,  and  the  silent 


BESIDE  A  NOISY  BIRD          101 

Savage,  who  also  had  the  Protection  of  God, 
stared  at  one  another.  A  withered,  crimson 
sprig  of  the  Fire-Tree,  extended  on  the  point 
of  the  toy-sword,  was  El  Lunatico's  parting 
gift,  his  pledge  of  friendship. 

As  a  seal  of  the  common  bonds  between 
them,  of  their  alliance,  Calinga  accepted  the 
gift.  When  he  was  alone  again,  he  cuddled 
the  beloved  dead  blooms  to  his  cheek.  Sad 
and  lonely,  deserted  by  all  but  the  Helpless 
Ones,  he  dreamed  and  pondered  through  the 
night.  Sometimes  he  longed  for  the  com 
panionship  and  good- will  of  the  wild,  defiant 
Bird. 


CHAPTER   XII 
The  God  of  the  Black-Robed  One 

A  MONTH  of  abject  meekness  on  the  part 
of  the  Head-Hunter  had  convinced  his 
captors  that  his  spirit  was  broken,  and  had 
won  him  an  extension  of  chain  that  allowed 
him  the  freedom  of  the  room  in  which  he  was 
caged  at  night.  But  Sefior  Calimag  did  not 
again  make  the  mistake  of  removing  the 
guard  with  the  Mauser. 

Calinga  stood  in  the  window  and  watched 
the  sun  sink  into  the  black,  misty  Mass  upon 
the  crest  of  the  West  Coast  Mountains.  The 
clouds  welcomed  the  Fiery  Wayfarer,  veiled 
it,  and  its  dull,  blood-red  face  seemed  to  grin 
and  to  mock  with  that  color  of  the  Fire- 
Tree  's  blooms.  The  crimson  hue  brought  the 
memories, — and  the  regrets. 

The  Comeliest  Maid  of  the  Tribe  was  lost. 
The  god  of  his  forefathers,  in  whose  service 

102 


GOD  OF  BLACK-ROBED  ONE     103 

he  had  undertaken  his  perilous  journey,  had 
deserted  him  in  his  need  and  had  left  him 
a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the  effeminate  Val 
ley  People.  And  the  Man  with  the  Pony  Tail, 
he  who  served  the  Glorious  God,  had  forgot 
ten  him.  Compassion  came  from  the  Black- 
Robed  One  that  served  the  white,  white  God 
upon  the  Crossed  Sticks,  and  from  the  Man 
with  the  Sword,  him  who  brought  the  twigs 
of  the  Fire-Tree,  and  from  the  Woman  with 
the  Smoldering  Brand  in  her  Mouth,  her 
that  said  "Pobre  Calinga,"  and  soothed 
him. 

A  cracking  "Boom"  startled  Calinga. 
He  crouched.  But  the  flash  of  Lightning 
indicated  the  Thunder's  wrath,  not  the  Voice 
of  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils,  and  he 
stood  erect  again. 

Then  came  the  shower,  a  rattling  fusillade, 
and  Calinga  stepped  back  from  the  window 
to  the  protection  within  the  shack.  He  crept 
to  his  own  corner  and  huddled  upon  the  floor, 
and  listened  to  the  sad,  droning  song  of  the 
rain  upon  the  rapidly  forming  puddles. 


104      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Vespers  tolled  solemnly,  and  the  town  was 
stilled,  save  for  the  voices  that  worshiped 
the  white  Man-God.  Calinga  gazed  upon  the 
Image  that  hung  from  the  Crossed  Sticks. 

A  Flash  of  Light  suffused  the  strange  Man- 
God  and  blended  the  colors  of  the  white, 
white,  painted  body  and  of  the  purple-blue 
Daubs  into  one  soft,  harmonious  hue. 

Calinga  crouched  upon  his  toes,  leaned  for 
ward  upon  his  finger-tips,  and  stared  into 
the  dense  blackness. 

The  flaring  Light  of  another  Flash  tinted 
the  Quiet  God  a  faint,  delicate  green. 

The  eyes  of  the  Savage  widened.  The  Mys 
tery  awed  him. 

The  Lightning  flashed  again,  and  its  yel 
low  Glare  painted  that  God  a  beautiful,  liv 
ing  green. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  suspected  the 
Truth — and  trembled. 

Each  successive  Flash  but  accentuated  the 
greenish  hue,  until  the  Image  glowed  like 
the  leaves  of  the  trees  in  springtime. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  saw  the  Truth. 


GOD  OF  BLACK-EOBED  ONE     105 

The  God  of  the  Green  Devils!  The  God 
that  had  given  them  the  victory  over  the 
Great  People!  The  God  that  gives  all  His 
People  the  Magic  that  booms  with  the  Voice 
of  the  Thunder's  wrath  and  stabs  from  afar 
like  the  spear! 

And  then  the  Lightning  made  the  God  to 
glow  with  a  white,  white  Charm  that  sur 
passed  the  beauty  of  all  mankind.  He  lived, 
He  breathed,  a  white,  a  fascinatingly  white- 
skinned  Man!  The  indifferent  Veil  melted 
from  the  Face,  and  the  white  Man-God 
looked  upon  Calinga  with  that  vague  Shadow 
of  Sorrow  which  lived  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand. 

The  God  of  the  Black-Eobed  One!  The 
God  of  the  Outstretched  Arms,  Who  says, 
"'Pax  vobiscum,"  to  the  Lonely  and  Suf 
fering  and  Captive  Ones! 

Calinga  saw  the  Beckoning  Arms  of  the 
Sad-Eyed  God,  and  heard  a  sweet  Voice  say, 
with  the  indefinable  pathos  of  the  Woman, 
"Pobre  Calinga,  pax  vobiscum.  Venga." 

Calling,  "Jesu  Christ o,"  the  Strong  Young 


106      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Chief  crawled  to  the  God  of  the  Faint  and 
Weary  and  Lonely.  Kneeling  before  the  Im 
age  that  smiled  so  tenderly,  so  serenely,  al 
though  He  hung  from  Crossed  Sticks,  he  wor 
shiped  as  he  had  seen  the  Black-Robed  One 
worship. 

And  so  the  Black-Robed  One  found  him. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Trophies  of  a  Thief 

IN  a  dell  of  the  West  Coast  Mountains  the 
Comeliest  Maid  of  the  Tribe,  she  whom 
the  Old  Chief  had  chosen  to  become  the 
mother  of  his  grandchildren,  waited  through 
the  days  of  the  Fire-Tree's  bloom  for  the 
return  of  the  Strong  Young  Chief.  All  the 
long  hours  she  brooded,  and  stared  down 
the  Trail  that  led  to  theLand  of  the  effeminate 
Valley  People.  One  by  one  the  young  men 
returned  with  the  Trophy  that  marked  Man 's 
Estate,  and  each  claimed  his  chosen  mate. 
And  many  a  maid  that  had  waited  anxiously 
was  happy.  The  Comeliest  Maid  heard  their 
laughter,  and  her  heart  grew  bitter. 

The  crimson  flowers  faded  and  withered. 

Then  the  old  women  of  the  Tribe,  who  had 
seen  the  Fire-Tree  bloom  times  beyond  mem 
ory,  came  to  her  and  said,  "Sometimes  it  is 

107 


108      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

so,  and  he  that  has  gone  forth  to  prove  his 
manhood  never  comes  again.  And  none  know 
where  he  has  fallen.  It  is  meet  for  the  maid 
that  has  waited  to  mourn  a  space  for  the 
Master  that  might  have  been.  But  it  is  right 
for  another  to  claim  her.  Let  her  forget. " 

The  Comeliest  Maid  smiled  and  answered, 
' '  The  Strong  Young  Chief  lives.  He  has  but 
gone  far  that  his  prowess  may  be  known.  Did 
not  his  father  do  ven  so  ?  These  others  that 
are  less  than  he  have  returned.  The  Strong 
Young  Chief  lives,  and  he  will  bring  many 
Trophies  to  prove  his  prowess." 

The  old  women  shook  their  heads  and  de 
parted. 

After  many  more  days,  after  the  last  with 
ered  blossom  had  fallen,  the  Comeliest  Maid 
grew  sad.  Yet  she  hoped,  and  whispered  to 
herself,  even  while  she  stared  into  the  misty 
veil  down  the  Trail,  "The  Strong  Young 
Chief  lives." 

On  a  day,  watching  alone,  waiting  alone, 
she  saw  the  Last  Straggler  toil  out  of  the 
Jungle  below  and  climb  the  steep  path.  Her 


THE  TROPHIES  OF  A  THIEF     109 

wild  cry  summoned  the  Tribe.  Maids  that 
had  mourned,  and  forgotten,  hurried  forth 
expectantly,  and  were  disappointed.  Old 
women,  who  scarcely  dared  to  glance  at  the 
Late  Comer,  tottered  to  the  Trail, — and  one 
of  their  number  found  her  son  again.  And 
for  the  number  of  the  Trophies  that  the  Last 
Straggler  brought,  and  for  the  Tale  he  told, 
and  for  the  Might  of  him,  the  Tribe  made  him 
the  New  Chief  in  the  place  of  the  Strong 
Young  Chief  that  should  have  been,  and  spec 
ulated  upon  the  maid  he  would  choose. 

The  New  Chief  brought  his  three  Trophies 
to  the  Comeliest  Maid. 

"The  Strong  Young  Chief  sought  the 
Trophy  that  would  give  him  the  Comeliest 
Maid,  but  the  Fire-Tree  has  bloomed  and 
faded,  and  the  Strong  Young  Chief  comes  not. 
Let  the  Comeliest  Maid  put  aside  her  mourn 
ing  and  be  chosen  by  another,"  said  the  New 
Chief,  and  laid  his  Trophies  at  her  feet. 

The  Comeliest  Maid  stared  long,  very  long, 
at  those  Trophies.  Then  she  smiled, — and 
stared  again.  One  caressing  bite  of  the  bolo 


110      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

had  severed  the  strange,  withered  head  with 
the  Pony  Tail, — and  only  the  arm  of  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  had  the  strength  to  de 
liver  such  a  blow!  Her  eyes  passed  beyond 
that  one  to  another.  A  marvelous  Trophy! 
And  more  marvelous  still  the  Art  of  its  tak 
ing!  It  fascinated  her.  Never,  within  the 
memory  of  the  Tribe,  had  a  man  returned 
with  such  a  head!  The  Massive  Neck  was 
stronger,  bigger,  than  the  neck  of  the  wild 
boar !  The  sweeps  of  the  bolo  that  had  taken 
it  had  been  an  Artist's! — and  of  all  the 
Tribe,  only  the  Strong  Young  Chief  pos 
sessed  that  Art!  She  glanced  at  the  last 
Trophy  of  the  three.  The  crude,  bungling 
work  it  exhibited  won  her  disdain.  Two 
hacking  blows  had  severed  the  shriveled 
head  with  the  scrawny  neck  and  the  thin 
gray  hair. 

The  Comeliest  Maid  laughed.  A  great 
hope  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  she  flaunted  the 
suitor  and  his  gifts. 

"The  New  Chief  brings  more  Trophies 
than  any  young  man  that  has  ever  returned 


THE  TBOPHIES  OF  A  THIEF     111 

from  a  single  Hant.  But  he  brings  not  Tro 
phies  of  his  own  valor.  He  brings  the  one 
head  that  he  took  from  a  tired  old  man.  But 
the  others  reveal  a  skill  that  he  does  not 
possess.  The  New  Chief  found  them  where 
he  who  has  traveled  far  to  gather  many 
more  had  hidden  them.  That  other  will  re 
turn  and  claim  them,  and  challenge  the  New 
Chief  to  show  his  skill  upon  the  puny  neck 
of  a  deer.  Let  the  New  Chief  bring  his  own 
Trophies,  and  worthy  Trophies  that  will  tell 
of  his  own  prowess,"  she  taunted. 

The  New  Chief  took  his  Trophies  and  de 
parted,  and  the  Comeliest  Maid  told  the 
Tribe,  ' '  The  Strong  Young  Chief  but  sleeps. ' ' 
So  the  Tribe  knew  that  she  still  had  faith,  and 
would  not  be  chosen  by  another. 

Many  times  in  the  days  that  followed, 
when  doubts  assailed  her  assurance,  she  told 
her  heart,  "The  Strong  Young  Chief  but 
waits  to  gain  other  Trophies  in  place  of 
those  he  has  lost  to  the  Thief.  He  will  bring 
as  many  Trophies  as  there  are  fingers  upon 
a  hand.  He  sleeps." 


CHAPTER  XIV 
The  Marks  of  a  Civilized  Man 

BECAUSE  Senor  Padre  offered  fifty  pe 
sos  for  tlie  Head-Hunter,  because  he 
really  desired  to  possess  that  Savage,  Senor 
Calimag  hesitated.  Fifty  pesos  was  a  goodly 
sum.  Such  an  offer  recalled  to  Senor  Cali 
mag  's  mind  the  motive  which  had  prompted 
him  to  assume  the  care  of  the  Instrument  of 
God.  Although  Calinga  had  become  docile 
enough  under  the  treatment  he  had  received, 
especially  after  the  flogging,  Senor  Calimag 
saw  no  prospect  of  winning  the  captive's  al 
legiance,  and  it  would  be  a  relief  to  be  rid  of 
the  trouble  involved  in  keeping  him.  Yet  he 
hesitated.  He  was  puzzled.  If  Ah  Ching 
had  made  such  an  offer,  Senor  Calimag  would 
have  suspected  that  wily  Celestial  of  plan 
ning  some  covert  vengeance  upon  an  enemy. 
"What  will  you  do  with  the  Head-Hunter ? 

What  do  you  want  him  for!"  he  inquired, 
112 


MARKS  OF  A  CIVILIZED  MAN     113 

"I. will  teach  him  the  Faith,  and  send  him 
back  to  the  Mountains  to  teach  his  Tribe," 
Padre  Antonio  declared. 

Senor  Calimag  and  Senor  Gumila  laughed. 

A  faint  "Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah"  floated  to  their 
ears.  The  cry  silenced  Senor  Calimag 's 
cackling  mirth.  He  shivered. 

Senor  Gumila  suppressed  his  chuckles  and 
winked  at  Senor  Calimag.  Then  he  faced  the 
Black-Eobed  One. 

"  And  you  believe  your  efforts  might  meet 
with  success  ! ' '  he  inquired,  placing  upon  the 
"might"  an  emphasis  which  ridiculed  any 
belief  in  such  a  possibility. 

Senor  Padre  nodded  his  head.  His  digni 
fied,  calm  assurance  rebuked  the  scoffer. 

"Last  night  I  found  Calinga  worshiping 
before  the  Crucifix, ' '  he  explained. 

"Jesu!"  Senor  Calimag  exclaimed. 

"Who  taught  him!"  Senor  Gumila  asked. 
Padre  Antonio  crossed  himself. 

"The  inspiration  of  God,"  he  answered. 

In  the  presence  of  a  divine  Mystery,  the 
two  men  were  silenced.  Both  of  them  re- 


114      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

membered  a  similar  incident,  were  thinking 
of  a  former  Mystery.  They  had  seen  the 
savage  Instrument  of  God  recognize  in  Senor 
Padre  the  Servant  of  God.  And  so  they  ad 
mitted  the  possibility  that  the  Almighty, 
through  His  Inspiration,  was  the  Teacher  of 
the  Savage  with  His  Protection. 

"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  El  Lunatico  shouted, 
as  he  galloped  by,  astraddle  his  wooden 
sword,  to  which  he  industriously  applied  a 
guava  switch. 

Senor  Calimag  jumped. 

"How  will  you  guard  him?"  Senor  Gumila 
inquired. 

"A  Christian  proselyte  needs  no  guard," 
Padre  Antonio  declared. 

The  two  skeptics  laughed. 

"We  should  have  some  fine  excitement  in 
Badi, ' '  Senor  Calimag  sneered.  ' '  It  will  take 
more  than  a  whim  to  convince  me  that  I 
should  leave  such  a  danger  unguarded  in  the 
town.  I  cannot  risk  the  lives  of  the  people. 
Of  course,  I  appreciate  your  motives,  Senor 


MAEKS  OF  A  CIVILIZED  MAN     115 

Padre;  we  expect  faith  and  trust  from  the 
Servant  of  God,"  he  apologized. 

"The  responsibility  shall  be  mine,"  Senor 
Padre  affirmed. 

Senor  Calimag  shook  his  head. 

"Not  for  my  neck,"  he  assured  Padre  An 
tonio. 

"But  Senor  Padre's  head  will  be  the  more 
convenient,"  Senor  Gumila  added,  a  jest 
which  amused  only  himself,  and  he  chuckled 
over  it. 

"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  came  El  Lunatico's 
faint,  mocking  call. 

Senor  Calimag *s  eyelids  narrowed. 
"Jesu!"  he  exclaimed.  Then  he  pondered 
upon  the  suggested  possibility.  "Unh,"  he 
grunted,  and  slyly  measured  Senor  Padre's 
neck.  As  an  afterthought,  he  rebuked  his 
lieutenant.  "That  was  a  very  poor  joke, 
Senor  Gumila,"  he  stated.  But  he  meditated 
further  upon  it.  "The  danger  is  too  great," 
he  decided;  "I  cannot  risk  having  an  un 
chained  savage  in  Badi." 

<rGo  with  me  to-night  at  Vespers  and  see 


116      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

for  yourselves, "  Senor  Padre  proposed,  a 
suggestion  to  which  the  others  agreed. 

Neither  Senor  Calimag  nor  Senor  Gumila 
had  been  in  the  room  with  Calinga  since  he 
had  been  confined  to  it  the  whole  day  through 
by  the  fever  following  the  flogging.  And  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  the  longer  chain  gave 
him  the  freedom  of  the  room,  neither  one 
cared  to  enter  it  without  guards,  despite  his 
reputed  docility.  Both  found  convenient 
chinks  in  the  wall  through  which  they  might 
observe  whatever  transpired  within.  Un 
believing,  speechless,  almost  doubting  what 
they  saw,  both  men  stared. 

Calinga  squatted  in  Ujjin's  corner  and  held 
that  worthy  Champion  perched  upon  one  bare 
knee.  His  long  finger  poked  the  red-brown 
breast.  When  horn-like  spur  dug  against  the 
sinewy  wrist  and  the  beak  pecked  the  tanta 
lizing  finger,  Calinga  grabbed  the  proud  head 
and  shook  it.  Over  and  over  the  routine  was 
repeated  until  Ujjin  charged  the  pestering 
hand. 

Then  Calinga  laughed,  and  gathered  the 


MAEKS  OF  A  CIVILIZED  MAN     117 

beruffled,  crowing  Ujjin  in  his  arms  and 
fondled  the  Bird  till  they  were  friends  again. 

"Jesu!"  Senor  Calimag  exclaimed  as  soon 
as  he  had  recovered  from  the  stupefaction  of 
his  surprise.  ' '  Such  appreciation  of  a  skilful 
Bird  is  marvelous!  Calinga  has  the  intui 
tion  of  a  born  trainer. ' ' 

Before  that  indisputable  evidence  of  ap 
proaching  civilization,  Senor  Calimag  lost  his 
doubts.  It  convinced  him.  His  enthusiasm 
even  made  him  forget  his  fears,  and  he  fol 
lowed  Padre  Antonio  into  the  room.  Senor 
Calimag  decided  to  keep  Calinga,  to  train 
the  captive  for  his  own  purposes.  But  the 
sullen  stare  with  which  Calinga  greeted  him 
was  a  reminder  of  Senor  Gumila's  joke,  a 
reminder  that  Calinga  still  was  a  Head- 
Hunter. 

"You  may  take  him  on  condition  that  the 
Policia  surround  your  house  with  a  guard  at 
night,  and  accompany  the  Head-Hunter  when 
he  is  out,"  Senor  Calimag  finally  consented. 
"The  Head-Hunter  fears  a  rifle." 

Padre   Antonio   unlocked   the   ankle-ring, 


118      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

dropped  it  and  the  chain  between  the  floor- 
slats  to  the  ground  beneath  the  house,  turned 
toward  the  door,  and  beckoned  to  Calinga. 

Calinga's  eyes  wandered  back  and  forth 
between  the  Black-Eobed  One  and  Senor  Ca- 
limag,  who  carried  the  Magic  of  the  Green 
Devils.  Then  he  moved  to  the  stand  of  the 
white,  white  Man-God  that  hung  from  the 
Crossed  Sticks,  yet  had  given  comfort  to  the 
Captive  One. 

Every  art  of  persuasion  failed  to  entice 
him  from  his  mute  and  pleading  devotions. 
But  when  the  Black-Robed  One  took  up  the 
Green  Devil's  God,  Calinga  hunted  out  the 
Image  of  0-mi-to-fu  and  the  withered  spray 
of  the  Fire-Tree,  and  followed  the  Servant 
of  the  White-Skinned  God  with  many  wounds. 

In  a  rear  room  of  the  priest's  home,  a  room 
like  that  from  which  Calinga  had  come,  Padre 
Antonio  installed  his  convert. 

"How  will  you  secure  him?"  asked  Senor 
Calimag  from  behind  Senor  Gumila's  broad 
back. 

Senor  Padre  smiled.    Very  reverently  he 


MARKS  OF  A  CIVILIZED  MAN     119 

chained  the  forty-inch  Crucifix  to  a  log  sup 
port  of  the  house.  Then  he  smiled  again. 

"So,"  he  answered.  "So  God  will  secure 
His  Chosen  One." 

"Jesu!"  the  two  spectators  commented. 

The  unchained  Savage  worshiped. 


CHAPTER   XV 
The  Mysteries  in  Many  Bonds 

rTlHROUGHOUT  the  passing  months  Ca- 
JL  linga  proved  a  patient,  obedient  stu 
dent,  anxious  to  please  his  benefactor,  ad 
mirably  attentive  to  the  long,  tedious  instruc 
tions  in  the  Catechism  and  in  reading  and 
writing  the  Language  of  Civilization.  The 
discovery  that  his  lessons  were  concerned 
with  the  worship  of  the  White-Skinned  God 
transformed  him  into  an  enthusiast.  He 
quickly  learned  to  make  the  Sign  of  the 
Cross,  to  tell  the  Beads  of  the  Eosary,  to 
observe  Matins  and  Vespers. 

Calinga  ate  his  meals  at  the  proper  times 
of  the  day,  because  they  were  given  to  him 
then.  He  slept  in  a  bed,  because  his  bene 
factor  wanted  him  to.  He  dished  his  food 
from  the  larger  bowls  and  pans  to  his  own, 
squeezed  it  into  a  lump,  and  with  his  thumb 

120 


MYSTEEIES  IN  MANY  BONDS     121 

placed  behind  it,  shoved  it  from  the  trough 
of  his  fingers  into  his  mouth,  because  Padre 
Antonio  had  taught  him  that  that  was  the 
correct  usage  in  eating  and  insisted  that  he 
observe  it.  He  took  his  siesta  naturally  dur 
ing  the  heat  of  the  day.  But  when  it  came  to 
substituting  the  calico  trousers  and  the  cot 
ton  coat  and  undergarments  for  his  loin 
cloth,  he  was  in  difficulties;  they  were  un 
comfortable,  hampered  his  movements,  and 
the  trousers  needed  many  a  hitch. 

In  his  free  time,  Calinga  became  the  de 
voted  servant  of  Sefior  Padre's  game-birds. 
Among  these  was  an  undersized,  skinny  fowl 
which  Calinga  appropriated  for  his  very  own 
and  upon  which  he  lavished  an  infinite  care 
and  affection,  because  its  white,  white  feath 
ers  reminded  him  of  the  white,  white  God, 
and  its  crimson  comb  burned  as  brilliantly  as 
the  blossoms  of  the  Fire-Tree.  Otherwise, 
Furao,  or  the  White,  was  an  unprepossessing 
Bird.  Those  who  could  not  appreciate  how 
Furao 's  white  feathers  should  be  reverenced 
and  envied,  frequently  ridiculed  Calinga,  both 


122      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

for  his  patience  in  training  the  gamester  and 
for  the  peculiar  style  the  fowl  was  acquiring. 

Juan  Danga,  policeman,  openly  sneered  at 
the  scrawny  proportions  of  Calinga's  pet. 

1 '  But  perhaps  its  bones  will  turn  the  blade 
of  a  spur  so  that  it  cannot  be  killed, ' '  Gerardo 
Felix  suggested  to  Juan, '  '  and  so  we  had  bet 
ter  bet  upon  the  Bony  Fowl.  When  do  you 
match  it  in  the  cock-pit?"  he  asked  of  Ca- 
linga,  a  mock  concern  only  too  evident  in  both 
manner  and  voice. 

Calinga  grunted  a  timid,  protesting 
"Unh,"  as  one  grunts  a  contradiction  to  an 
equal. 

But  among  the  frequent  visitors  at  Senor 
Padre's  home  was  one  who  took  the  unpre 
tentious  Furao  seriously.  Ah  Ching,  a 
shrewd  judge  of  gamesters,  was  always  in 
terested  enough  in  the  training  of  fighting- 
cocks  to  spend  valuable  time  in  studying  the 
efficacy  of  a  new  method.  In  the  marvelous 
skill  with  which  the  Wiry  Bird  crouched  be 
neath  the  charge  of  an  adversary  and  dodged 
the  spur,  and  then  in  counter-attack  delivered 


MYSTEEIES  IN  MANY  BONDS     123 

a  snappy,  powerful,  ripping  blow  from  under 
the  opposing  gamester,  Ah  Ching  recognized 
a  style  of  fighting  so  novel  that  it  might  be 
wilder,  even  defeat,  such  a  Master  as  the  Un- 
conquered  Ujjin.  Ah  Ching  shrugged  his 
shoulders  like  a  Filipino,  and  spoke  after 
the  manner  of  that  race  in  accepting  the  best 
of  unsatisfactory  alternatives. 

"Who  knows?  As  God  wills  it,"  he  mut 
tered.  "Surprises  often  win.  The  unex 
pected.  It's  worth  trying." 

What  it  was  that  was  worth  trying,  Ah 
Ching  confided  in  no  one,  not  even  in  young 
Seiior  Guarrin  nor  in  Senor  Padre,  his  con 
federates  in  plots  against  the  peaceful  con 
tinuation  of  Seiior  Calimag's  tyranny  in 
Badi, — nor  to  that  Other,  whose  share  in 
whatever  happened,  though  unsuspected  by 
his  two  allies,  was  credited  by  Seiior  Calimag 
to  the  restless,  wandering  soul  of  Li  Choy 
Sang. 

Although  Seiior  Padre  was  greatly  pleased 
with  his  convert's  progress,  one  matter 
caused  him  considerable  worry.  As  Calinga's 


124      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

desire  to  wear  his  Crucifix  outside  his  cloth 
ing  in  imitation  of  the  yellow  calico  cross 
upon  El  Lunatico 's  coat  of  sacking,  could  be 
credited  to  pride  in  the  Faith,  that  habit 
did  not  trouble  Padre  Antonio.  Since  Ca 
linga 's  former  guards  had  become  his  friends, 
his  companions,  his  equals,  their  constant, 
ostentatious  attendance  upon  him  with  their 
rifle  no  longer  continued,  as  a  reminder  of 
the  past.  El  Lunatico  was  the  problem. 

Day  after  day  the  Accursed  of  God  brought 
portions  of  the  Fire-Tree,  and  first  fastening 
them  to  the  point  of  the  wooden  sword,  pre 
sented  them  to  Calinga,  who  likewise  en 
joyed  God's  Protection.  Sometimes  El 
Lunatico 's  gift  was  the  crimson  flowers,  and 
sometimes  a  spray  of  withered  leaves.  Again 
it  was  but  a  bare,  dead  twig.  Usually  Calinga 
accepted  the  present,  indifferently,  but  occa 
sionally  the  ceremonious  presentation  seemed 
to  plunge  him  into  a  morose,  gloomy  mood. 
As  the  taciturn  Calinga  had  never  mentioned 
to  his  patron  the  village  Girl  whose  eyes 
sometimes  spoke  to  him  like  the  Comeliest 


MYSTERIES  IN  MANY  BONDS     125 

Maid's,  Padre  Antonio  placed  the  entire 
blame  for  the  recurrence  of  that  mood  upon 
El  Lunatico.  Whenever  the  Accursed  of  God 
charged  into  the  yard,  and  pranced,  and 
wheeled  his  play-horse  into  position  beside 
Calinga,  the  good  Padre  frowned,  and  shook 
his  head,  and  muttered  a  wish  that  his  prose 
lyte  would  abandon  that  comradeship. 

Remonstrances  to  Calinga  proved  futile. 
With  all  the  deference  due  Senor  Padre  from 
an  inferior,  he  listened  to  what  was  said, 
answered  with  the  "Wen,  Seiior,"  of  assent 
at  the  proper  times,  bowed  and  scraped, 
waited  upon  his  patron 's  pleasure,  and  in  all 
respects  exhibited  his  good  breeding.  But 
the  request  that  he  desert  his  first  friend  for 
those  newer  ones  who  formerly  had  been  his 
guards,  he  met  with  a  sullen,  defiant  silence. 

Padre  Antonio  resented  El  Lunatico 's  in 
terference  with  his  convert.  Besides,  he  was 
puzzled  by  the  Accursed  One's  daily  visits, 
by  the  lunatic's  evident  fondness  for  Ca 
linga  's  society.  Before  the  Head-Hunter  had 
been  brought  to  Badi,  El  Lunatico  had  spent 


126      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

all  of  his  time  at  Senor  Calimag's  home. 
Padre  Antonio  knew  just  what  attraction  in 
Senor  Calimag's  household  was  responsible 
for  such  constancy.  Because  Senor  Padre 
Antonio  Kiachu  knew  why  the  power  of  that 
attraction  was  so  intense,  he  could  not  under 
stand  what  consideration  had  led  El  Luna- 
tico,  just  as  soon  as  the  convert  was  moved 
to  a  new  home,  to  spend  several  hours  daily 
away  from  Senor  Calimag's  household  and 
in  the  company  of  Calinga. 

But  Padre  Antonio  Kiachu  had  suspicions. 
As  the  ignorante  brother  of  Juanita  Kiachu, 
unwilling  ignorante  mistress  of  Senor  Cali- 
mag's  father,  Antonio  Kiachu  knew  what  the 
uncle  of  Senor  Calimag's  ignorante  half- 
brother,  Pedro  Kiachu,  might  be  expected  to 
know;  he  comprehended  the  quality  of  the 
rage  which  had  tempted  Pedro  Kiachu  to 
attack  Senor  Calimag  and  to  murder  Senor 
Calimag's  principale  son,  and  then  to  desert 
from  the  Army  of  Spain  and  to  seek  refuge 
among  the  outlaws  of  the  Mountains.  The 
fact  that  Antonio  Kiachu  was  as  young  as 


MYSTERIES  IN  MANY  BONDS     127 

his  nephew,  Pedro  Kiachu,  did  not  mean  that 
he  had  no  personal  resentment  because  of  his 
sister's  fate  and  had  not  suffered  through  it; 
Padre  Antonio  had  heard,  on  the  day  of  his 
ordination,  that  his  sister  had  died  from  the 
flogging  that  El  Sargento,  at  Sefior  Calimag's 
command,  had  administered  to  her  for  bear 
ing  such  a  son  as  Pedro  Kiachu  had  proved 
to  be.  And  Padre  Antonio  inferred  all  that 
might  be  inferred  by  a  brother  who  had 
ultimately  paid  the  debt  of  peonage  which 
the  enforced  sale  of  his  sister  was  supposed 
to  have  reduced.  Besides,  if  Antonio  Kiachu 
had  not  forsworn  the  world,  he  would  have 
loved  the  woman  who  had  plighted  her  troth 
to  Pedro  Kiachu. 

In  the  name  of  his  inferences  and  suspi 
cions,  Sefior  Padre  remonstrated  with  El 
Lunatico.  But  although  the  Accursed  of  God 
usually  heeded  the  Servant  of  God,  he  in 
this  case  only  laughed  and  laughed,  and  yelled 
"  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, "  and  galloped  away, 
astraddle  his  wooden  sword. 

Calinga  was  not  prepared  for  baptism  until 


128      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

the  new  buds  were  upon  the  Fire-Tree.  As 
Padre  Antonio  had  first  named  the  captive 
Savage  Calinga,  after  the  Tribe,  so  like 
wise  he  chose  the  name  to  be  given  at  the 
sacrament.  But  symbolical  of  Divine  For 
giveness,  young  Senor  Guarrin,  son  of  the 
Head-Hunter 's  victim,  agreed  to  stand 
sponsor  for  the  convert. 

When  the  impassive  Ah  Ching  heard  of  that 
arrangement,  he  blinked  his  eyes  and  pon 
dered  upon  it.  Although  he  could  not  fathom 
the  mystery  in  it,  and  was  extremely  curious, 
he  finally  decided  that  it  would  be  wiser  not 
to  ask  for  the  explanation  of  the  puzzle ;  for 
whenever  young  Senor  Guarrin  and  Senor 
Padre  were  ready  to  execute  the  plot  that 
they  were  evidently  concocting,  they  would 
undoubtedly  inform  him  of  the  details  and 
assign  him  his  share  in  it. 

Senor  Calimag  was  present  at  the  cere 
mony, — and  felt  strange,  creepy  thrills  crawl 
ing  up  his  spine  to  his  neck,  a  sensation  that 
did  not  cease  even  with  Senor  Padre's  deep- 
toned,  solemn  pronunciamento :  "  Pedro. 


MYSTERIES  IN  MANY  BONDS     129 

Upon  this  rock  God  shall  build  His  Church 
among  the  Peoples  of  the  Mountains. " 

Far  away,  El  Lunatico,  who  had  been 
barred  from  the  service  by  Padre  Antonio's 
orders,  straddled  his  toy  sword,  and  howled 
"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah." 

Teresa,  who  always  reminded  Pedro  Ca- 
linga  of  the  Comeliest  Maid,  remembered  the 
masterful  eyes  that  had  stared  into  her  own 
on  the  day  of  the  flogging,  remembered,  too, 
the  chagrin  of  the  wielder  of  the  lash.  Often 
she  glanced  inquisitively  at  El  Sargento. 
Once,  his  eyes  meeting  hers,  he  smiled  at  her. 

The  convert,  waiting  for  her  in  the  door 
way  and  wondering  if  his  new  status  in  so 
ciety  would  make  a  difference  to  her,  saw 
that  smile.  Although  Teresa  promptly 
turned  her  back  upon  El  Sargento  and  pursed 
up  her  nose,  the  incident  plunged  Pedro  into 
a  morose,  gloomy  mood.  He  feared  that  his 
savage  past  made  him  unworthy  of  her,  and 
her  fancied  favor  to  the  despised  Sargento 
filled  him  with  a  presentiment  that  he  would 
never  come  to  know  her,  much  less  win  her. 


130      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

As  soon  as  Pedro  could  escape  from  his 
friends,  he  wandered  far  into  the  hills,  wan 
dered  until  he  found  a  single  Fire-Tree  in 
bloom,  from  which  he  gathered  great  bunches 
of  the  fiery  blossoms. 

Senor  Padre  found  the  suggestive  flowers 
scattered  about  Pedro  Calinga's  room.  As 
something  of  abstraction,  of  meditation,  in 
Pedro 's  tense  face  suggested  that  his 
thoughts  might  be  dwelling  on  the  savage 
Mountain  Woman  who  had  waited  for  the  gift 
of  a  human  head,  Seiior  Padre  shuddered. 
If  Senor  Padre  had  known  about  Teresa,  or 
even  the  mating  season  of  the  year,  he  would 
not  have  been  so  disturbed. 

Padre  Antonio  glanced  at  the  altar  in  the 
room. 

Just  behind  the  Crucifix  sat  the  hideous 
Chinese  idol  of  0-mi-to-fu.  Its  arms  held  a 
fresh  sprig  of  the  Fire-Tree,  El  Lunatico's 
daily  gift. 


CHAPTEE   XVI 
The  Watchers  Beside  the  Mysterious  Trail 

AGAIN  the  Fire-Tree  bloomed  and  the 
young  men  sought  the  Trophy  that 
should  give  them  Man's  Estate  and  a  maid  to 
bear  them  children.  And  still  the  Comeliest 
Maid  hoped  and  waited  for  the  Strong  Young 
Chief.  The  young  men  came  back  again,  and 
the  light  of  the  great  joy  burned  in  many  a 
maiden's  eyes. 

When  the  last,  faded,  withered,  crimson 
flowers  fell  from  the  Fire-Tree,  a  very  few 
of  those  who  had  gone  forth  had  not  returned. 
As  many  young  maids  mourned  for  a  space, 
and  forgot.  At  night,  as  many  old  women 
stared  down  the  Mysterious  Trail  whither 
their  sons  had  gone. 

The  old  women  that  mourned  in  silence 
came  to  the  Comeliest  Maid,  and  waited  with 
her  that  had  the  Great  Faith  to  say,  "The 

131 


132      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Strong  Young  Chief  sleeps,  but  lie  will  come 
again."    And  her  words  comforted  them* 

For  the  third  time,  the  Comeliest  Maid  re 
fused  the  New  Chief's  Trophies.  And  to 
silence  his  protest,  she  threatened  him  with 
exposure. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
The  Spirit  Voice  of  Li  Choy  Sang 

IT  was  one  of  Ah  Ching's  plots.  But  it  had 
its  inception  in  El  Sargento 's  courting. 

Teresa  refused  El  Sargento.  The  levity 
with  which  she  received  his  impassioned 
protestations  constituted,  in  his  estimation, 
an  insult.  A  quality  of  disdain  in  her  ex 
pressive  eyes  reminded  him  of  the  contemp 
tuous  stare  she  had  bestowed  upon  him  just 
after  he  had  completed  the  public  flogging 
of  the  Savage.  Although  the  incident  was 
almost  three  years  in  the  past,  memory  of  it 
so  enraged  El  Sargento  that  he  forgot  the 
part  of  wisdom,  and  taunted  her. 

He  pointed  out  the  budding  flowers  of  the 
Fire-Tree,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
sneered,  "Perhaps  Teresa,  like  a  Mountain 
Woman,  waits  to  be  claimed  with  a  gift  of  a 
head.'' 

133 


134      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Teresa  understood.  She  understood  both 
the  jeer  at  Pedro  Calinga 's  antecedents  and 
the  accusation  that  she  cared  for  the  man. 
She  shuddered.  And  yet?  With  a  sensa 
tion  akin  to  a  shock,  she  confessed  an  interest 
in  Pedro  Calinga,  an  interest  the  realization 
of  which  had  been  forced  upon  her  by  the 
suggestion.  She,  too,  recalled  Pedro  Calinga 
as  he  had  appeared  on  that  day,  the  wild, 
beautiful  power  of  the  man,  recalled  the  ap 
peal  he  had  made  to  her  then  and  had  made 
ever  since.  She  resented  the  hint  at  that 
Mountain  Woman  who  had  been  the  incentive 
for  the  trip  that  had  ended  with  Calinga 's 
capture.  The  mere  thought  of  that  Other 
Woman  aroused  her  jealousy,  filled  her  with 
cold  chills,  and  she  shuddered  again.  Then 
she  wondered  how  El  Sargento  had  guessed 
what  she  herself  had  not  realized,  what  had 
never  been  intimated.  Pedro  Calinga  had 
never  spoken  to  her — except  with  his  eyes, 
and  they  were  always  eloquent.  How  many 
had  read  the  Tale  those  eyes  told  1  The  pos 
sibility  troubled  her. 


SPIRIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     135 

Consciousness  that  she  was  staring  at  her 
own  little  feet  startled  Teresa.  She  tried  to 
think  of  a  suitable  retort,  of  any  sort  of  a 
lash  that  would  hide  her  own  confusion.  De 
fiantly  she  raised  her  eyes.  For  a  moment 
she  stared  at  El  Sargento's  neck.  That  was 
suggestive.  Then  she,  too,  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"If  it  could  be  one  head,"  she  admitted. 
"But  it  is  not  the  Custom  to  take  a  con 
temptible  head,'7  she  mourned,  "so  perhaps 
poor  Teresa  must  always  remain  unclaimed. ' ' 

El  Sargento  also  understood.  He  sput 
tered,  and  his  clenched  fist  drew  back.  But 
Teresa  was  not  his  woman — not  yet — and  so 
his  blows  might  not  repay  her  for  the  affront. 
He  could  only  threaten,  and  bluster,  and 
stride  away  with  whatever  masculine  dignity 
he  could  sustain. 

He  almost  ran  in  his  haste  to  request  Senor 
Calimag's  assistance.  He  planned  revenge, 
planned  to  make  her  his  woman,  planned  to 
inflict  upon  her,  in  the  near  future,  a  full 
measure  of  just,  retaliatory  blows.  The  most 


136      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

attractive  little  Teresa  should  petition,  and 
plead,  and  beg  for  mercy  from  her  lord  and 
master!  Though  her  beauty  thrilled  him, 
the  scornful  flash  of  her  eye,  her  cruel  retort, 
maddened  him. 

He  found  Senor  Calimag  in  the  yard,  but 
the  illustrious  man  was  preoccupied  and  El 
Sargento  waited  for  a  propitious  moment  to 
make  his  request. 

Senor  Presidente  was  worried.  He  could 
not  fathom  Ah  Ching 's  purpose  in  inviting 
the  Spanish  Provincial  Officials  to  visit  Badi 
during  the  great  ball  in  honor  of  Senor 
Calimag 's  sixtieth  birthday,  and  the  absence 
of  an  apparent  motive  perplexed  the  local 
celebrity.  The  Chino  had  not  been  actuated 
by  a  desire  to  confer  upon  the  famous  baile 
such  a  luster  as  only  the  presence  of  the 
Spaniards  could  give.  Clearly,  Ah  Ching  was 
engaged  in  some  subtle  intrigue  aimed  at 
Senor  Calimag.  Senor  Calimag  had  so  fre 
quently  become  involved  in  shrewd  Oriental 
traps  that  he  feared  Ah  Ching 's  plots. 

A  town  cur  which  El  Lunatico  was  driving 


SPIBIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     137 

about  the  yard  in  pursuit  of  first  one  and 
then  another  chicken,  suddenly  dashed  among 
the  Policia  guards  gathered  near  their  Mas 
ter.  The  Accursed  One  found  some  difficulty 
in  soothing  his  snarling,  frightened  "pony," 
and  in  extricating  it  from  the  crowd.  But 
the  commotion  did  not  disturb  the  trend  of 
Senor  Calimag's  meditations. 

Senor  Calimag  recognized  one  awkward 
complication,  a  mere  incident  but  neverthe 
less  a  complication  for  which  there  was  noth 
ing  but  an  awkward  solution.  The  Spaniards 
could  not  be  invited  unless  their  host  were 
included  in  the  invitation,  and  every  social 
leader  of  Badi  would  resent  the  Chino's  pres 
ence.  Senor  Calimag  swore. 

Then  he  turned  upon  El  Sargento,  glared 
at  that  inoffensive  ignorante,  and  grunted  a 
questioning  "Unh?" 

El  Sargento  made  his  request,  and  Senor 
Calimag  promptly,  curtly  refused. 

Though  El  Sargento  remembered  the 
witchery  of  the  little  Teresa's  taunting  eyes, 
remembered,  too,  the  heavy  debt  of  gratitude 


138      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

his  Master  owed,  lie  maintained  due  defer 
ence  in  his  rigid,  military  pose.  Yet  some* 
thing,  perhaps  the  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
carried  a  threat. 

"  Never,  in  all  the  years  that  have  passed 
since  Pedro  Kiachu  murdered  Seiior  Cali 
mag 's  son,  and  fled,  has  your  unworthy  serv 
ant  told  that  he  was  ordered  to  flog  and  flog 
the  murderer's  mother  until  she  was  dead, 
nor  has  he  claimed  his  promised  reward " — 
he  paused — " until  now." 

Senor  Calimag  shuddered,  and  glanced 
hastily  about.  The  preoccupation  of  his  body 
guard  in  their  noisy  controversy  with  El 
Lunatico  reassured  him. 

"Sh-h-h,"  he  warned.  "I  acknowledge 
the  obligation.  The  matter  shall  be  arranged 
as  you  wish. ' ' 

"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  El  Lunatico  yelled, 
and  charged  out  of  the  yard  in  a  mad  effort 
to  recapture  his  escaped  "pony." 

Senor  Calimag  recoiled,  and  crossed  him 
self  again  and  again,  and  muttered  many  3, 
fervent  "Jesu!"  The  Policia  found  it  nee- 


SPIBIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     139 

essary  to  aid  his  trembling  footsteps  into 
the  house. 

Later  Ah  Ching  called.  Though  Senor 
Calimag  warily  and  intently  searched  the 
impassive  Celestial  features  for  some  hint  of 
the  part  the  Spaniards  were  to  play  in  the 
plot,  he  found  none. 

"I  have  trained  many  Birds  in  an  effort 
to  defeat  the  famous  Ujjin" — Ah  Ching 
smiled  blandly — "and  have  lost  heavily  in 
wagering  upon  them.  I  have  another  that  I 
would  like  to  match  against  the  Undefeated 
Champion — for  a  suitable  wager — say  on  the 
Sunday  "before  the  great  baile." 

The  reference  to  that  social  function  re 
minded  Senor  Calimag  of  his  dilemma.  As 
he  had  no  intention  of  losing  such  an  oppor 
tunity  to  extricate  himself  gracefully,  he 
promptly  invited  Ah  Ching. 

With  just  the  indifference  that  would  have 
marked  the  manner  of  an  intimate  friend,  or 
of  one  who  had  but  received  an  expected 
courtesy,  Ah  Ching  accepted,  and  expressed 
a  conventional  pleasure. 


140      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

"I  should  like  to  present  to  my  illustrious 
guests  the  bird  that  had  conquered  Ujjin," 
Ah  Ching  explained. 

What  connection,  other  than  the  one  stated, 
there  could  be  between  the  visit  of  the  Span 
iards  and  a  combat  between  fighting-cocks, 
puzzled  Senor  Calimag.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"If  the  stakes  make  it  worth  while,"  he 
agreed. 

"A  hundred  pesos  a  side — for  the  public 
to  talk  about?"  Ah  Ching  suggested,  and 
Senor  Calimag  nodded.  "But  between  our 
selves,  to  make  the  affair  of  interest  to  men 
of  wealth?'7  He  paused,  hesitated,  seemed 
to  ponder.  Senor  Calimag  found  something 
fascinating  in  the  steady,  unblinking  stare 
of  the  expressionless,  slant  eyes.  Ah  Ching 's 
pidgin  Spanish  intensified  the  nasal  drone  of 
his  speech. — ' i  The  peon,  Vicente  Balisi,  owes 
you  three  hundred  pesos,  and  he  owes  me  a 
hundred  and  two" — Ah  Ching 's  innocent, 
impassive  eyes  stared  at  his  host — "and 
Vicente  has  a  daughter."  Senor  Calimag 


SPIEIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     141 

started.  "I  will  stake  my  claims  in  him 
against  an  equal  part  of  yours.  If  I  win,  I 
will  own  more  than  half  of  him,  and  if  you 
win,  you  will  own  all  of  him.  So  if  you  win, 
El  Sargento  shall  have  the  little  witch, 
Teresa,  but  if  I  win" — he  paused  again  and 
smiled — "if  I  win,  she  shall  be  free  for  one 
year  to  marry  Senor  Padre's  man,  Pedro 
Calinga." 

Senor  Calimag  trembled.  Ah  Ching's 
knowledge  of  El  Sargento 's  affair  with  the 
woman  was  uncanny.  It  was  ominous,  and 
carried  a  threat  of  the  catastrophe  that 
might  result  from  a  refusal  of  the  wager. 
Nevertheless,  Senor  Calimag  had  no  inten 
tion  of  antagonizing  El  Sargento.  That 
ignorante,  if  enraged  by  a  delay  in  gaining 
possession  of  the  woman,  and  especially  if 
he  should  suspect  a  ruse  to  cheat  him  out 
of  her,  might  seek  revenge,  even  might  tell 
Ah  Ching  and  Senor  Padre  Antonio  Kiachu 
how  the  mother  of  Pedro  Kiachu  had  hap 
pened  to  die!  What  El  Sargento  could  tell 
of  deeds  in  Badi  would  stir  all  the  North 


142      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Provinces  from  one  end  of  the  Great  Cagayan 
Valley  to  the  other !  Senor  Calimag  refused 
the  bet. 

Ah  Ching  bowed. 

"Perhaps  Seiior  Presidente  prefers  to  ac 
cept  the  same  terms  from  Senor  Padre,"  he 
suggested,  and  started  for  the  door. 

Senor  Calimag  protested.  He  much  pre 
ferred  dealing  with  an  irate  El  Sargento  to 
dealing  with  a  polite,  insistent  Padre  An 
tonio,  who  knew  what  he  knew  and  suspected 
more.  Besides,  Ujjin  always  won,  and  El 
Sargento  could  be  convinced  that  the  wager 
meant  no  more  than  a  slight  delay  in  get 
ting  possession  of  the  woman  and  was  un 
avoidable  under  the  circumstances.  One 
other  consideration  urged  acquiescence.  Ah 
Ching  was  a  good  sport,  a  good  loser,  and 
the  acceptance  of  the  wager  would  insure  his 
silence  ever  afterwards. 

"And  the  Bird!"  he  asked. 

Ah  Ching  bowed  again. 

"I  have  not  made  my  choice  as  yet,  but 


SPIRIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     143 

I  will  name  the  Challenger  to-morrow/ '  he 
promised. 

After  Ah  Ching  had  gone,  Senor  Calimag 
pondered  upon  the  situation.  He  was  per 
plexed  as  well  as  terrified.  No  traitor  among 
his  guards  could  have  carried  such  full  de 
tails  of  the  plan  to  Ah  Ching,  for  not  a  per 
son  had  been  near  enough  to  hear  the  prom 
ise  to  El  Sargento ;  the  Policia  were  engaged 
at  the  time  in  a  noisy  controversy  with  El 
Lunatico.  Nevertheless,  Senor  Calimag 
questioned  the  guards,  and  bullied  the  women 
of  the  household.  He  did  not  mention  the 
bet,  nor  its  terms,  but  he  dropped  hints  con 
cerning  the  coming  Combat  and  the  beau 
tiful  Teresa,  hints  so  suggestive  that  they 
would  have  startled  a  traitor  into  self-be 
trayal. 

Only  his  former  favorite,  Ana,  revealed 
even  the  slightest  trace  of  nervousness — and 
her  agitation  was  evidently  due  to  the  chat 
tering  Accursed  One's  roughness  in  his  game 
with  her  baby  boy.  Senor  Calimag  finally 
concluded  that  this  was  just  another  case  in 


144      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

which  the  Ghost  of  Li  Choy  Sang,  that  omnis 
cient  spirit,  had  betrayed  his  plans  to  Ah 
Ching.  But  that  supposition  did  not  explain 
what  ulterior,  hidden  advantage  would  accrue 
to  Ah  Ching  from  saving  Teresa  for  Pedro 
Calinga.  Senor  Calimag  did  not  suspect 
Pedro  of  having  a  Chinese  Ancestor,  and  if 
he  had,  he  would  not  have  appreciated  the 
strength  of  such  a  tie. 

Because  Ah  Ching 's  plots  were  always 
aimed  at  one  target,  because  their  conse 
quences  were  invariably  disastrous  to  the 
victim,  because  this  present  situation  was 
baffling  to  any  sane  .solution,  Senor  Calimag 
surrendered  himself  to  those  torturing  per 
plexities  and  worries  that  imagination  builds 
from  the  material  supplied  by  a  guilty  con 
science. 

In  the  meantime,  Ah  Ching  pattered  over 
to  Senor  Padre's  home  and  made  certain  ar 
rangements  with  Pedro  Calinga.  As  a  gen 
erous  compensation  for  the  services  of  Furao, 
the  Chino  presented  Pedro  with  a  fortune  of 
fifty  pesos  to  wager  on  the  combat.  But  he 


SPIRIT  VOICE  OF  LI  CHOY  SANG     145 

kept  his  faith  with  Senor  Calimag;  he  said 
nothing  of  the  other  stakes,  the  novel  stakes, 
for  which  the  gamesters  would  fight. 

A  very  proud  Calinga  tenderly  returned 
Furao  to  his  fellows,  while  the  former  scoff 
ers  quickly  spread  the  news  of  the  match, 
a  match  that  gave  both  the  Bird  and  its 
trainer  such  a  transient  fame  as  may  be  re 
flected  by  the  reputation  of  a  Champion 
Gamester  like  Ujjin. 

When  Ah  Ching  named  Furao  the  White, 
Senor  Calimag  sighed  his  relief.  After  all, 
there  had  been  nothing  to  fear  in  Ah  Ching 's 
plot.  The  choice  of  such  a  Challenger  was 
amusing.  The  only  unpleasant  feature  about 
the  match  was  the  possibility  that  Ujjin 
might  suffer  ridicule  for  meeting  the  Bird 
that  was  the  town  joke. 

Senor  Calimag  laughed.  i  l  The  devil ! ' '  he 
sneered,  and  laughed  again.  "  Ujjin  the  Bed, 
will  certainly  be  ready  for  this  Scrawny 
Wonder,  this  Furao ! "  he  assured  Ah  Ching. 

Ah  Ching  pattered  home,  and  promptly 
forgot  all  about  the  incident.  He  had  re- 


146      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

ceived  his  invitation  to  the  great  bails f  and 
had  no  other  interest  at  stake,  since  the  out 
come  of  the  contest  involved  the  factional 
prestige  of  the  Ilocanos  and  Cagayannes 
but  did  not  concern  the  Chinos.  Of  course, 
Ah  Ching  could  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of 
Furao's  success,  should  0-mi-to-fu  grant  it. 
As  for  Teresa  and  her  fate,  that  concerned 
only  Pedro  Calinga  and  El  Sargento — and 
0-mi-to-fu,  Ah  Ching  believed,  would  also 
look  after  that. 

It  was  several  days  before  the  diabolical 
ingenuity  of  Ah  Ching 's  plot  occurred  to 
Seiior  Calimag — and  then  Senor  Gumila 
pointed  it  out.  Ah  Ching  had  selected  a  Bird 
that  was  the  property  of  the  Chosen  of  God ! 
Would  the  Inspiration  of  God  guide  Furao  's 
spur? 


CHAPTER   XVIII 
In  the  Eyes  of  the  Strange  Furao 

SENOR  PRESIDENTE,  as  Official  Judge 
of  Combats,  announced  the  match  of  the 
day. 

The  reeking,  steaming  mob  packed  itself 
against  the  circle  of  bamboo  poles  about  the 
pit.  The  Cagayan  faction  were  gathered  to 
shout,  to  boast,  to  see  their  scarred,  old,  vet 
eran  Champion,  Ujjin,  chase  the  scrawny, 
presumptuous  Novice  from  the  pit.  The  Ilo- 
canos,  more  silent  partisans,  only  hoped. 
Within  the  enclosure,  Senor  Calimag  stood 
over  the  trainers,  to  insure  that  all  was  fair, 
to  settle  disputes,  while  Senor  Padre  leaned 
against  the  boundary  staves  and  kept  a 
shrewd  eye  on  the  final  arrangements. 

Though  Pedro  Calinga  and  his  strange 
Bird  were  the  objects  of  many  a  humorous 

sally,  of  requests  to  exhibit  the  skill  of  the 
147 


148      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

ridiculous  Fowl,  of  quips  that  provoked  the 
uproarious  merriment  of  the  Cagayannes, 
the  indifferent  Pedro  ignored  the  taunts. 
But  when  he  discovered  the  little  Teresa,  a 
change  came  over  him.  For  her  benefit,  he 
demonstrated  Furao's  art,  although  she  was 
nothing  but  a  woman.  Of  course,  he  ad 
dressed  his  explanations  to  his  friend,  El 
Lunatico,  who  had  heard  them  many  times 
and  could  not  be  expected  to  comprehend  sen 
sible  distinctions.  But  his  eyes  spoke  to 
Teresa. 

Their  message  startled  Senor  Padre.  A 
muttered  "Jesu!"  expressed  his  sudden  en 
lightenment.  In  Pedro's  interest  in  Teresa, 
Padre  Antonio  saw  a  factor  that  would  de 
stroy  the  fascination  of  the  blossoms  of  the 
Fire-Tree  and  steady  the  convert  in  the 
Faith.  Not  that  Calinga  needed  any  support 
in  the  Faith,  but  that  a  woman  like  Teresa 
would  finally  reconcile  Pedro  to  civilization. 
Senor  Padre  busied  his  thoughts  with  plans 
for  their  future.  But  those  plans  depended 
upon  Teresa,  upon  her  will,  upon  her  desires. 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FUEAO  149 

He  studied  her.  From  the  wistful,  uncon 
scious  expression  in  her  eyes,  it  was  evident 
that  she  was  less  interested  in  the  gamester, 
in  its  novel  skill,  than  she  was  in  its  trainer. 

Senor  Calimag  laughed,  but  Senor  Padre 
failed  to  detect  the  cynical,  vindictive  amuse 
ment  in  the  cackle. 

Despite  the  preoccupation  of  his  adviser, 
Pedro  Calinga  lost  no  advantage  in  the  long 
contest  of  claim  and  counter-claim  concern 
ing  the  conditions  of  the  combat.  In  nimble 
wit,  in  ready  argument,  he  so  thoroughly 
outgeneraled  El  Sargento  that  he  gained 
every  concession  he  desired  without  grant 
ing  any  in  return.  Senor  Calimag  cursed  the 
stupidity  of  his  henchman — and  remembered 
how  Ah  Ching  had  planned  that  the  Inspira 
tion  of  God  should  guide  the  tongue  of  His 
Chosen  One — while  the  hopes  of  the  Ilocanos 
rose  accordingly. 

But  best  of  all,  Teresa  danced,  and  clapped 
her  hands,  and  laughed  exultantly,  although 
she  had  no  suspicion  of  what  was  staked  upon 
the  combat,  of  what  the  outcome  might  mean 


150      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

to  her.  She  thought  of  the  possibilities  that 
a  hundred  pesos  might  suggest  to  Pedro  Ca- 
linga,  of  all  the  household  furnishings  so 
much  wealth  would  buy,  and  a  gentle  light 
lurked  in  her  dark  eyes. 

Enraged  almost  beyond  the  limit  of  self- 
restraint,  El  Sargento  glared  at  her — and 
barely  choked  back  the  muttered  threat,  "Fll 
beat  you  for  that,  after  the  fight. ' ' 

Teresa  could  not  distinguish  the  mumbled 
words,  but  the  scowl  on  El  Sargento 's  face 
betrayed  his  annoyance  over  her  delight  in 
his  opponent's  success  in  outwitting  him. 
She  openly,  pointedly,  tauntingly  exulted. 

"Ujjin,  the  Unconquered,  humbles  pre 
sumption,"  El  Sargento  growled.  Only 
Senor  Calimag  discerned  the  double  inter 
pretation  that  could  be  put  upon  the  remark. 

"  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, "  yelled  El  Lunatico,  and 
galloped  around  the  pit. 

Senor  Calimag  shivered,  and  crossed  him 
self,  and  gave  the  signal. 

For  just  a  moment,  Calinga  cuddled  his 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FUEAO  151 

white,  white  pet.  Then  he  dropped  the  eager 
Challenger  to  the  ground. 

Silent,  necks  stretched  and  feathers  stand 
ing  out,  their  bodies  swaying  slightly  back 
and  forth,  the  Eed  and  White  crouched  low 
and  glared  at  one  another.  Their  trainers 
urged  them  on  with  crooning  words  and  sharp 
calls,  with  snapping  fingers. 

El  Sargento  paused  in  his  exhortations 
just  long  enough  to  give  Teresa  one  vindic 
tive,  triumphant  glance,  to  gloat  over  the 
terror  that  should  drive  the  soft  light  from 
her  eyes  when  she  should  learn  how  he  had 
won  her,  and  could  beat  her  for  her  taunts 
and  insults. 

Ujjin  sprang.  Although  the  flap  of  his 
wings  scarcely  warned  of  his  attack,  Furao 
dropped  in  time,  and  dodged  the  swinging, 
vicious  sweep  of  the  powerful  limb,  and  then, 
jabbing  from  beneath  in  his  own  peculiar 
way,  gashed  Ujjin 's  red  breast. 

Teresa  hid  her  eyes  until  she  heard  the 
cheers  of  the  Ilocanos,  the  answering,  gasp 
ing  groans  of  the  Cagayannes.  Then  she 


152      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

joined  in  urging  the  White  on  to  victory,  in 
pleading  with  that  worthy  Bird  to  win  a  hun 
dred  pesos  for  her  Silent  Lover.  El  Sar- 
gento  glared  at  her,  and  raged,  and  cursed  the 
veteran  Ujjin  for  his  slovenly  work  with  the 
spur,  and  consigned  Ah  Ching  and  his  wagers 
to  Eternal  Torment.  The  Hocano  shouts  for 
the  Chosen  of  God,  after  such  evidence  of 
Divine  Aid,  did  not  reassure  El  Sargento. 
Nor  did  the  noisy  demonstration  of  El  Lu- 
natico,  that  other  with  God's  Protection. 
The  Accursed  One  yelled,  and  whooped,  and 
yelled  again. 

"Wait,  wait,  my  Furao,"  Calinga's  calm, 
tense  voice  begged.  "Wait  for  the  Craven 
One,  and  stab  far  back." 

Furao  disobeyed.  He  rushed  in,  and  his 
steel  spur  ripped  to  shreds  a  wing  of  the  red. 

Teresa  thrilled  at  the  certainty  of  Furao 's 
victory,  at  the  vision  of  her  dreams  come 
true. 

And  then  it  happened.  It  may  have  been 
an  accident,  and  the  rules  of  the  pit  would 
call  it  such.  As  Senor  Calimag  stepped  aside, 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FUEAO  153 

his  heel  toppled  Furao  over  and  drove  the 
Bird's  own  keen-edged  spur  through  a  leg, 
severing  the  muscles  from  its  body. 

Ujjin  stood  to  his  full  height,  crowed 
lustily,  and  strutted  before  his  dying,  help 
less  adversary. 

At  first  Calinga  stared  dazedly  at  the 
birds.  And  neither  the  challenge  in  El  Lu- 
natico's  familiar  yell  nor  the  little  branch  of 
the  budding  Fire-Tree  that  the  Accursed  One 
hurled  into  the  pit  aroused  Calinga  from  his 
stupor.  Then  his  lips  began  to  move 
strangely.  And  then  he  leaned  forward  on 
his  toes,  and  crouched  low,  and  the  tensed 
muscles  of  his  arms  quivered. 

Teresa  cried  quietly,  wept  in  protest  at  the 
postponement  of  all  the  dreams,  sobbed  for 
fear  that  Calinga  might  not  think  of  the  pos 
sibilities  unless  a  fortune  suggested  them. 

El  Sargento  started  out  of  the  pit  to  choke 
her  into  silence,  to  beat  her  for  her  grief,  for 
humiliating  him  so. 

But  some  instinct  drew  his  eye,  drew  every 
eye,  to  Calinga,  to  Calinga 's  strained  pose, 


154      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

to  his  moving  lips.  The  exultant  cheers  of 
the  Cagayannes  died  in  their  throats,  and 
the  mob  subsided  into  a  painful,  awed  silence. 
And  then  they  heard  Calinga  calling,  calling, 
calling,  faint  at  first,  not  Christian  words  but 
a  savage  prayer  that  swelled  louder  and 
louder — a  wild,  weird,  fierce,  droning  chant. 

Furao  heard  that  insistent  plea,  heard,  too, 
the  boastful,  triumphant  crow, — and  flopped 
around  to  face  his  foe.  He  glared  unquench 
able  hate  and  defiance  at  Ujjin. 

Such  audacity  surprised  Ujjin.  He  forgot 
to  crow,  and  ceased  his  proud  strutting  be 
fore  Furao 's  fast  glazing  eyes.  Puzzled,  in 
quisitive,  he  cocked  his  head  from  side  to 
side.  Such  insolence  from  a  dying,  conquered 
Bird  angered  Ujjin.  He  crouched  low,  and 
prepared  to  deliver  the  final  death  blow. 

Something  shook  Ujjin 's  courage,  perhaps 
the  insistent  voice  calling,  calling,  perhaps 
the  savage,  undimmed,  defiant  fighting  spirit 
in  the  eyes  of  the  strange  Furao.  And  never 
before  in  a  battle  had  Ujjin  been  so  faint,  nor 
received  so  many  terrible  slashes.  Ujjin 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FUEAO  155 

dodged  Furao 's  unconquered  eyes,  and  stole 
around  to  the  side  to  sneak  in  a  blow. 

Though  his  head  was  sinking  lower  and 
lower,  Furao  turned  too, — a  flopping,  floun 
dering,  terrifying  motion. 

Ujjin  paused. 

More  intense,  more  urgent,  swelled  the 
droning  chant,  the  call,  the  prayer! 

Wings  beating  the  ground  wildly,  like 
drum-sticks  beating  the  long  roll,  Furao  lifted 
himself  to  his  single  foot  and,  shoving  him 
self  along  with  those  flapping  wings,  lum 
bered  straight  at  Ujjin. 

Ujjin  fled,  and  the  Victor,  his  last  spas 
modic  effort  expended,  sank  to  the  ground. 

Not  a  cheer  hailed  Furao.  The  silent  spec 
tators  could  only  stare  at  the  gore-dyed,  white 
lump  that  Calinga  gathered  in  his  arms  and 
crooned  over. 

Then  El  Lunatico  yelled.  At  that  familiar 
cry,  the  tension  snapped,  and  factions  for 
gotten,  the  whole  assemblage  cheered  the 
heroic,  dead  Furao. 

El  Sargento  did  not  join  his  voice  in  the 


156      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

general  shout  of  acclamation,  but  slunk  out 
of  the  pit  and  away  from  public  view.  He 
had  no  desire  to  witness  the  little  Teresa's 
tears;  they  were  tears  of  expectation. 

The  outcome  of  the  combat  changed  the 
public  attitude  toward  Calinga,  It  made  him 
the  personality,  Pedro  Calinga.  He  ceased 
to  be  merely  the  civilized  Savage,  Calinga. 
And  more,  he  became  a  personage,  accepted 
and  greeted  by  all  as  a  famous  man,  trainer 
of  Furao,  the  Conqueror  of  Ujjin,  for  years 
the  Undefeated  Champion  of  all  the  North 
Provinces.  Pedro  did  not  recognize  the  dif 
ference,  as  a  thought  formulated  and  ex 
pressed  in  his  own  mind,  but  he  felt  it. 
Wherever  he  strolled  through  the  crowd,  peo 
ple  spoke  to  him,  and  sought  his  acquaint 
anceship.  In  all  matters  pertaining  to  cock 
fights,  his  judgment  was  accepted  as  final. 
Even  in  affairs  with  which  he  had  had  no 
experience,  like  the  great  baile,  his  opinion 
was  asked  for,  and  received  the  deference 
accorded  to  authority.  Though  the  adula 
tion  was  the  reward  of  Success,  and  Pedro 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FURAO  157 

enjoyed  it,  he  would  scarcely  have  repeated 
as  his  own  so  many  judgments  borrowed  from 
Senor  Padre's  chance  remarks,  if  he  had  not 
suffered  from  three  other  stimulants. 

Most  wonderful  of  all,  Teresa  smiled  at 
him,  and  requested  him  to  explain  the  intri 
cacies  of  the  combat.  Some  witchery  in  her 
dark  eyes  fascinated  him.  Almost  before  he 
realized  what  he  was  doing,  he  offered  her, 
as  a  gift,  the  body  of  Furao.  His  own  audac 
ity  so  terrified  him  that  he  trembled  in  fear 
of  her  refusal,  of  her  resentment  at  the  public 
attention  thus  attracted  to  her.  Her  confu 
sion  chilled  him.  And  then  the  reaction,  his 
exaltation  upon  her  shy  acceptance  of  the 
gift,  so  thrilled  him  that  he  almost  over 
looked  the  desirability  of  retaining  Furao 's 
severed  leg  as  a  memento  of  that  faithful 
gamester. 

After  that  event,  nothing  seemed  strange. 
When  Senor  Calimag  stopped  him  for  a  few 
kindly  words,  and  invited  him  to  attend  the 
great  baile,  Pedro  saw  nothing  unusual  in  the 
distinction,  although  but  few  of  his  caste,  and 


158      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

those  from  the  Cagayannes,  were  similarly 
honored. 

Everywhere  Pedro  met  adulation.  Here 
an  admirer  pressed  upon  him  a  cigar,  an 
other  a  chew  of  buja.  Others  insisted  upon 
him  joining  them  in  a  drink  of  bino.  Pedro 
took  many  drinks  of  bino,  and  so,  when  Senor 
Padre  escorted  him  home,  his  gait,  though 
solemnly  dignified  as  in  the  early  afternoon, 
had  lost  much  of  its  surety,  his  eyes  their 
keenness. 

Pedro  sought  the  altar  in  his  room.  A 
long  time  he  pondered  before  it.  Then  he  hid 
the  image  of  0-mi-to-fu  in  a  crevice  beneath 
the  floor,  and  put  the  foot  of  Furao  in  its 
place.  Remembering  Teresa,  he  sauntered 
out  into  the  fields,  and  gathered  the  blossoms 
of  the  Fire-Tree. 

Later  in  the  evening  Padre  Antonio  dis 
covered  the  substitution  of  Furao 's  foot  for 
the  Chinese  idol.  He  smiled,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  together.  But  noticing  the  fresh, 
crimson  mass  of  the  flowers  that  crowded 
upon  the  chained,  white,  white  Crucifix  with 


IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE  FUEAO  159 

the  purple-blue  marks,  he  frowned,  and  shook 
his  head. 

"Teresa  will  put  an  end  to  that  foolish 
ness,  "  he  muttered. 

Again  he  stared  at  the  too  vivid  reminder 
of  the  past. 


CHAPTER   XIX 
The  Flight  of  the  Comeliest  Maid 

FOE  the  fourth  time  the  New  Chief  came 
to  the  Comeliest  Maid.  In  his  wild  eyes 
burned  a  resolution  that  defied  the  threats 
of  exposure  with  which  she  had  so  often 
silenced  him. 

"The  Fire-Tree  blooms  again,"  said  he, 
"and  its  fresh  young  shoots  call  to  the  Sa 
cred  Hunt.  I  go.  And  when  I  come  again, 
I  will  bring  many  Trophies  with  thick  black 
hair.  Let  the  Comeliest  Maid  put  aside  her 
mourning  for  him  that  has  never  returned, 
and  choose  him  who  has  succeeded  the  Strong 
Young  Chief." 

"The  Strong  Young  Chief  sleeps,"  the 
Comeliest  Maid  answered.  "He  will  come 
again,  and  bring  many  Trophies  of  his 
prowess." 

' '  The  Strong  Young  Chief  sleeps  forever, ' ' 

160 


FLIGHT  OF  COMELIEST  MAID     161 

the  New  Chief  replied,  "and  the  Comeliest 
Maid  must  choose  another." 

The  Comeliest  Maid  bowed  her  head,  and 
answered  nothing  to  that  command. 

But  when  the  crimson  of  the  Fire-Tree 
burned  the  most  brilliantly,  the  Comeliest 
Maid  stole  down  that  Mysterious  Path  which 
the  young  men  followed  when  they  sallied 
forth  to  hunt  among  the  effeminate  Valley 
People  the  Trophy  of  Man's  Estate.  In  the 
flat  land,  she  knew  no  fear  of  the  Valley  Peo 
ple,  whose  men  had  only  the  courage  of 
women,  and,  war-bolo  in  hand,  she  crept 
boldly  through  their  fields,  and  wandered 
hither  and  thither  in  search  of  the  Strong 
Young  Chief  that  had  not  come  again. 


CHAPTER   XX 
The  Amusements  of  a  Lunatic 

THRILLS!  Thrills!  Thrills  insure 
the  success  of  any  function/'  Sefior 
Gumila  gushed.  l '  Only  the  shrewdest  of  men, 
my  dear  Calimag,  would  have  discerned  so 
promptly  the  thrills  the  Spaniards  will  find 
in  the  presence  of  the  Civilized  Head-Hunter 
at  the  great  baile." 

Senor  Calimag  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
grunted  a  rasping,  self -laudatory  "Unh." 

At  the  house  they  found  confusion  and  wild 
excitement.  Ana's  baby-boy  tossed  on  the 
floor  with  the  fever  of  smallpox,  and  she, 
wringing  her  hands  in  dry-eyed  agony, 
knelt  beside  the  child. 

Almost  stupefied  by  such  a  misfortune  at 
such  a  time,  Sefior  Calimag  glowered  at  the 
ignorante  boy,  his  own  son,  and  yet  accord 
ing  to  that  Inexorable  Law  which  gives  the 

162 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     163 

mother's  inferior  caste  to  the  child  born  out 
of  wedlock,  only  a  despised  ignorante.  Then 
came  realization  of  all  that  was  threatened. 

"Damn  the  ignorante  brat,"  he  howled. 
"Why  must  he  bring  the  plague  into  the 
house  when  it  is  not  due  for  another  month? 
Perhaps,  even,  the  Spaniards  may  stay  away 
from  the  great  baile,"  he  wailed. 

Senor  Gumila  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Pacencia,  Senor,  pacencia,"  he  soothed. 
"  As  God  wills  it. " 

Disappointment  and  rage  mastered  Senor 
Calimag.  Again  and  again  he  struck  the 
crouching  woman  with  his  cane.  Ana  only 
shrank  closer  to  the  floor,  closer  to  her  sick 
child — with  her  body  over  it,  above  it,  pro 
tecting  it — and  no  sound  of  protest  or  of  pain 
escaped  from  her  set  lips.  The  beating  ceased 
when  Senor  Gumila  succeeded  in  overpower 
ing  the  infuriated  man. 

"Fool!"  the  cool-headed  Gumila  hissed. 

"Pedro  Kiachu  did  murder  for "  He 

shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively. 

And  then   Senor   Calimag  shivered,   and 


164      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

cowered,  and  his  eyes  fearfully  searched  the 
room  for  a  Presence  that  was  not  there. 

When  he  had  recovered  his  composure  and 
had  pondered  sufficiently  upon  the  predica 
ment,  Senor  Calimag  arrived  at  a  solution; 
he  banished  mother  and  child  to  an  old  shack 
in  the  yard,  and  set  the  Policia  to  guard  it, 
lest  El  Lunatico  discover  the  whereabouts  of 
the  Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand  in 
her  Mouth  and  frighten  the  guests  with  his 
senseless  chatter. 

The  shack  in  the  yard  fascinated  El  Lu 
natico.  Again  and  again  he  tried  to  pass  the 
guards,  but  every  attempt  met  with  failure. 
Neither  a  resort  to  ruses,  nor  appeals  to  their 
superstitious  fear  of  interfering  with  one 
having  God's  protection,  availed  to  beguile 
them  from  their  watchful  caution.  Though 
they  crossed  themselves  many  times  and 
cursed  Senor  Calimag  for  assigning  them  to 
such  a  detail,  they  withstood  even  the  vicious 
administrations  of  the  wooden  sword.  So 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     165 

El  Lunatico  abandoned  his  effort  to  get  into 
the  old  building. 

With  far  better  results,  the  Accursed  One 
gave  his  attention  to  usurping  the  functions 
and  prerogatives  of  the  Master  of  Cere 
monies.  At  first,  El  Sargento  resisted  El 
Lunatico 's  assumption  of  the  distinction  and 
its  authority,  but  he  quickly  succumbed  be 
fore  the  Accursed  One's  assaults,  and  fled. 

As  an  insane  mind  is  never  actuated  by  a 
logical  motive,  El  Lunatico,  in  his  usurpation 
of  El  Sargento 's  prerogatives,  could  not  be 
suspected  of  an  attempt  to  divert  attention 
from  an  ulterior  motive,  but  rather  of  a 
childish  desire  to  enjoy  a  novel  sensation. 
Nevertheless,  El  Lunatico  appreciated  the 
importance  of  his  position.  No  grand  ~baile 
can  be  really  distinguished,  unless  a  skilful 
Master  of  Ceremonies  directs  the  efforts  of 
the  ignorante  guests  and  makes  sure  that 
they  give  reasonable  attention  to  the  roast- 
ing-fire  and  to  the  preparation  of  the  feast. 
El  Lunatico  proved  a  Success ;  he  was  impar 
tial — in  so  far  as  he  compelled  every  one,  even 


166      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

members  of  the  Policia,  to  labor.  But  lack 
ing  discrimination,  he  sometimes  set  men  at 
such  women's  tasks  as  cleaning  the  fowls  and 
insisted  upon  their  performing  the  odious 
duty  in  public. 

Pedro  Calinga  was  bored.  The  monotony 
of  repeated  exhibitions  of  Tadday,  Furao's 
understudy  and  successor,  deprived  his  ef 
forts  of  either  vim  or  interest.  But  when  the 
beautiful  Teresa  came  to  see  the  Birds,  Pedro 
found  a  renewed  pleasure  in  illustrating  the 
art  of  training  a  gamester.  Not  that  he  dared 
to  talk  to  her  at  first !  But  her  shy,  furtive 
glances  thrilled  her  handsome  admirer. 

Pedro  missed  the  first  summons  to  the 
feast.  Possibly  El  Lunatico,  flustered  and 
excited  over  the  sensation  of  mustering  the 
revelers,  forgot  his  friend.  Or  he  may  have 
appreciated  the  fascination  in  dark,  fathom 
less,  feminine  eyes.  At  least,  they  were  not 
disturbed  until  the  Old  Crone,  much  im 
pressed  by  such  preoccupation,  boisterously 
announced,  "It  is  easy  to  see  why  Senor 
Padre  is  building  a  new  shack  on  his  land. 


AMUSEMENTS  OP  A  LUNATIC     167 

Soon  Pedro  Calinga  will  have  a  home,  and 
take  Teresa  to  it." 

The  guilty,  confused  couple  jumped. 
Pedro  promptly  drove  two  Birds  into  harm 
less  conflict  with  one  another,  while  Teresa 
lost  herself  in  the  crowd. 

El  Lunatico  straddled  his  sword  and  gal 
loped  after  the  offender.  With  the  panto 
mime  of  spanking  a  naughty  child,  he  es 
corted  an  intensely  dignified  Pedro  to  the 
head  of  the  line. 

1 '  If  you  must  wait  for  the  women  and  chil 
dren,  lead  them, ' '  he  scolded,  a  joke  that  won 
vociferous  applause  from  the  spectators. 

He  placed  the  abashed  Teresa  behind  Ca 
linga,  and  whacked  the  shins  of  those  whose 
noise  and  protests  at  the  position  assigned 
the  girl,  delayed  the  proper  formation  of  the 
line.  Satisfied  at  last,  he  signaled  to  the 
band,  and  supervised  the  parade  to  the  tables. 

Sefior  Calimag,  who  never  interfered  with 
the  precedences  established  by  the  ignorantes 
among  themselves,  personally  placed  the 
chair  for  Pedro.  Turning  to  welcome  his 


168      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

other  humble  guests,  he  caught  sight  of  the 
girl  with  the  bowed  head.  Senor  Calimag 
stared. 

"Jesu!n  he  exclaimed,  speaking  in  Span 
ish,  a  language  which  the  ignorantes  did  not 
understand,  "little  Teresa  has  grown  to  be  a 
greater  beauty  than  was  her  sister  Ana ! ' ' 

He  studied  her  with  a  covetous  admiration, 
but  her  bashful,  intense  reserve  discouraged 
him,  while  the  placid  smile  of  the  wily  Ah 
Ching  reminded  him  of  the  wager  he  had 
lost.  Senor  Calimag  began  to  plan  some 
comment  with  which  to  humiliate  her  success 
ful  ignorante  suitor,  but  that  which  he  saw  in 
Calinga's  steady  eyes  strangled  the  words  in 
his  throat,  and  he  could  only  mutter  another 
disappointed  "Jesu!" 

Senor  Gumila  laughed. 

"Can  you  not  see  that  Teresa  means  to 
give  her  enticing  little  self  to  him  who  sits 
at  the  head  of  the  table  T '  he  sneered. 

Senor  Calimag  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
laughed.  But  before  he  could  voice  his  boast, 
his  threat,  El  Lunatico  trotted  up  to  him, 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     169 

halted,  and  stared  into  his  face.  The  action 
disconcerted  Senor  Calimag.  It  suggested 
that  something  was  amiss,  and  he  passed  his 
hand  over  his  perspiring  face.  The  white 
powder  adhering  to  his  finger-tips  gave  as 
surance  that  his  complexion  still  resembled  a 
Spaniard's  in  whiteness. 

"Jesu!"  El  Lunatico  exclaimed.  "Such 
pretty  brown  streaks  up  and  down!"  Then 
he  stuck  his  finger  in  his  mouth  and  poked  it 
at  the  illustrious  Seiior  Don  Miguel  Calimag. 

The  Senor  Don  crossed  and  recrossed  him 
self,  but  before  he  could  back  away  El  Lu 
natico  very  deliberately  passed  his  finger 
twice  over  the  scrawny  cheeks.  He  examined 
the  additional  brown  streaks,  examined  the 
white  lump  on  his  finger,  thumped  the  floor 
with  his  sword,  smeared  a  checker-board 
decoration  on  his  forehead  and  cheeks,  and 
turned  a  somersault. 

Before  he  could  recover  his  balance  and 
continue  with  his  objectionable  antics,  a  gen 
try  persuasive  but  firm  Pedro  Calinga  took 
charge  of  El  Lunatico,  seated  the  Irrespon- 


170      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

sible  One  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  and  com 
manded  him  to  keep  silent. 

In  El  Lunatico  's  passive  submission  to  the 
Chosen  of  God  was  something  more  than 
obedience  to  a  recognized  master.  There  was 
surprise  that  his  outbreak  was  treated  with 
such  indifference!  There  was  disappoint 
ment  over  the  failure  of  some  expected  out 
come  to  materialize!  There  was  a  hard,  de 
termined  glitter  in  his  roving,  limpid  eyes ! 

Feeling  a  certain  responsibility  for  the  ac 
tions  of  his  afflicted  friend,  the  famous  trainer 
of  gamesters  glanced  across  the  table  as  soon 
as  he  was  again  seated  at  its  head. 

Pedro  Calinga's  hands  clattered  on  the 
board  before  him — he  leaned  forward — he 
stared.  In  a  doorway  behind  El  Lunatico 
stood  a  group  of  white,  white-skinned  men  in 
white  clothes.  Only  their  black  hair,  their 
eyebrows,  broke  the  harmonious  unity  of 
white ! 

Green  Devils!  Spaniards!  The  People 
that  owned  the  Magic  of  the  Boom-Boom! 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC      171 

And  each  Green  Devil  carried  one  of  the 
Charmed  Sticks! 

In  that  instant,  Pedro  Calinga,  the  Strong 
Young  Chief,  understood  the  fate  of  Li  Choy 
Sang  and  his  Great  People.  Green  Devils 
were  the  Spaniards,  the  People  who  had  given 
their  God — the  white,  white-skinned  God — 
to  the  poor  Filipino !  If  an  interruption  had 
not  broken  the  spell,  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
would  have  crawled  to  the  white-skinned  men 
as  once  he  had  crawled  to  the  Image  of  the 
white,  white  Man-God  that  hung  upon 
Crossed  Sticks. 

Toned  with  hatred,  El  Lunatico's  wild, 
triumphant,  expectant  laughter  rang  out,  and 
challenged  the  Savagery  in  the  civilized 
Head-Hunter.  The  whole  company  shivered, 
and  made  the  Sign  of  the  Cross,  and  glanced 
fearfully  back  and  forth  between  the  two  who 
stared  so  strangely  at  one  another.  El  Lu- 
natico  grasped  his  nose  with  thumb  and  fore 
finger,  tilted  back  his  head  till  the  cords  of 
his  neck  stood  out,  and  gravely  hacked  at  his 
throat. 


172      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Pedro  Calinga's  muscles  tensed,  Ms  jaws 
set. 

El  Lunatico  gagged  and  gurgled, — and 
gloated  over  the  fires  that  raged  higher  and 
higher  in  Calinga's  eyes. 

Senor  Padre's  strained,  furious  voice  broke 
the  silence.  He  pointed  at  the  door  and  held 
the  Crucifix  on  high. 

"Get  thee  hence,  thou  Accursed  One,  lest 
we  forget  that  God  protects  thee  for  thy  af 
fliction,"  he  commanded.  "Go,"  he  threat 
ened,  when  El  Lunatico  indicated  his  inten 
tion  of  uttering  a  retort. 

"Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  El  Lunatico  yelled. 
But  he  obeyed  the  Servant  of  God  and 
charged  out  of  the  house. 

Only  the  Power  of  the  God  of  the  Lonely, 
the  appeal  of  His  Image  and  of  His  gentle, 
soothing  Spirit  Voice  saying,  "Pax  vobis- 
cum,"  transformed  the  Strong  Young  Chief 
back  again  into  Pedro  Calinga,  and  steadied 
him.  But  his  hands  clasped  and  unclasped, 
spasmodically.  And  no  banter  could  relieve 
the  strain  that  El  Lunatico  left  behind  him. 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     173 

Thoroughly  pleased  with  his  desired  expul 
sion  from  the  house,  El  Lunatico  chased  the 
pigs,  the  curs,  the  women,  and  the  chickens, 
as  he  was  expected  to  do,  until  the  members 
of  the  Policia  were  assured  of  his  satisfaction 
with  such  tame  sport,  and  returned  to  the 
interrupted  feast.  But  when  he  became  con 
vinced  that  no  stray  watcher  lurked  in  a  win 
dow,  he  gave  his  attention  to  the  faint  sounds 
in  the  previously  well-guarded  shack.  He 
listened.  Sword  on  his  shoulder,  he  marched 
over  to  investigate.  Stealthily  he  climbed  to 
a  window  and  peeked  through.  His  conven 
tional  hail  gurgled  in  his  throat,  unuttered. 
He  stared. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  Ana  knelt  above 
the  body  of  her  boy.  The  quiet,  rigid  form 
of  his  favorite  playmate  awed  El  Lunatico. 
He  wondered  if  the  stiff,  still  hands  clasped 
in  one  of  the  mother's  would  ever  again  reach 
out  and  beg  for  a  loan  of  the  Spanish  mili 
tary  cap.  Though  her  cramped  throat  choked 
over  the  words  of  the  lullaby,  Ana  crooned  to 
the  sleeper.  Her  hand  smoothed  the  child's 


174      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

coarse,  matted  hair  from  out  the  wide,  vacant 
eyes. 

El  Lunatico  slipped  into  the  shack  and 
squatted  beside  the  woman.  When  his  hand 
also  touched  the  boy,  he  whispered,  "Dead." 

The  woman  neither  saw  nor  heard  him. 
Deaf,  indifferent,  she  rocked  on,  and  crooned. 

The  laughter  of  the  guests  suggested  to 
El  Lunatico  the  blasphemous  sayings  with 
which  he  so  often  horrified  her. 

' i  Hear  them  laugh,  Ana !  Hear  the  princi- 
pales  laugh  at  the  Will  of  God,"  he  jabbered. 
But  there  was  hatred  in  the  snap  of  his  voice. 
"Why  call  upon  the  God  of  the  principales, 
Ana!  Their  God  is  mean  to  an  ignorante 
girl." 

His  blasphemy  failed.  It  neither  reached 
her  consciousness  nor  turned  her  from  her 
grief  to  a  scathing  reproof  of  himself.  El 
Lunatico  stared  at  the  woman 's  dry,  hot  eyes, 
at  the  bony,  gentle  hand,  and  he  heard  the 
pain  in  her  crooning  voice.  It  may  have  been 
a  lucid  interval  that  led  him  to  understand 
her  need,  or  it  may  have  been  chance. 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     175 

Another  uproar  of  laughter  burst  upon 
them,  and  the  woman  cringed. 

"Pobre  Ana,  Poire  Ana/'  El  Lunatico 
repeated  over  and  over,  until  the  droning, 
soothing  words  won  her  attention,  and  her 
dumb  eyes  appealed  to  the  Accursed  of  God. 

"Pobre  Ana,"  he  comforted. 

Possibly  the  memory  of  the  man  El  Lu 
natico  once  had  been,  perhaps  only  the  chord 
of  sympathy  in  his  voice,  accounted  for  the 
influence  of  his  words.  She  ran  her  claw- 
like  fingers  through  her  hair  and  rent  it,  and 
convulsive  sobs  shook  her  frame.  Yet  their 
very  violence  soothed  her. 

El  Lunatico  consoled  her  until  her  first, 
wild  grief  subsided.  Then  he  stole  out  and 
left  her  alone  with  her  dead. 

Straddling  his  wooden  sword  and  yelling, 
6 '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, "  he  galloped  around  the 
house  until  the  bitter  hatred  in  the  cry  had 
overawed  the  guests,  and  had  silenced  them. 
Then,  laughing  insanely,  he  charged  into  the 
house  from  which  he  had  so  recently  been 
expelled.  Setting  his  cap  at  the  proper  mili- 


176      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

tary  tilt  and  twisting  his  horns  into  shape,  he 
marched  up  to  Senor  Calimag,  chucked  that 
illustrious  individual  under  the  chin,  took 
his  arm  and  dragged  him  toward  the  door. 

"Come,  Senor,  come,"  he  urged.  "Your 
son  is  dead,  and  the  beautiful  Ana  that  you 
stole  from  her  true  lover,  is  dying.  Come, 
Senor,  come  and  see  beautiful  Ana  and  her 
still  child." 

Senor  Calimag  trembled,  and  the  words  of 
his  protests,  his  pleas  for  assistance,  gurgled 
in  his  throat.  Despite  his  struggles  and  much 
crossing  of  himself,  the  maniac  dragged  him 
along.  No  one,  not  even  Senor  Padre,  dared 
to  interfere  with  the  Accursed  One,  nor  to 
lay  hands  on  him. 

El  Lunatico's  mood  changed.  He  halted 
Senor  Calimag  and  swung  him  around. 

4 '  Poor  Ana  might  think  the  devil  had  come 
to  laugh  at  her,"  he  snarled,  and  shoved 
Senor  Calimag  back  amongst  the  guests. 
"Poor  Ana  needs  nothing  but  the  good 
Padre,"  he  mumbled,  and  stalked  out  of  the 
house. 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     177 

Senor  Calimag  cowered.  He  licked  his 
parched  lips. 

"Such  an  unfortunate  occurrence !"  he 
apologized.  ' i  One  could  do  no  more  than  re 
move  the  disease  from  the  house. ' ' 

The  arrival  of  a  messenger  with  the  news 
that  Senor  Gumila's  woman  had  also  died 
with  the  smallpox  turned  the  departure  of  his 
guests  into  a  rout.  Only  Ah  Ching's  placid 
smile  and  bland  good  humor  remained  un 
affected.  So  Senor  Calimag,  enraged  at  the 
Chino's  apparent  triumph,  blamed  the  whole 
misfortune  upon  Ah  Ching's  diabolical  in 
genuity,  and  began  to  ponder  upon  retalia 
tion  and  upon  the  binding  quality  of  an  oath 
passed  to  a  Heathen  Chino  in  sealing  some 
bets. 

Chattering  and  jabbering,  yet  with  the 
military  precision  of  one  who,  in  other  days, 
had  seen  service  with  the  Army  of  Spain, 
El  Lunatico  paraded  before  the  shack  and 
guarded  the  woman's  sorrow  from  curious 
eyes,  until  Senor  Padre  arrived.  Then  he 
himself  clambered  up  to  the  window.  Hang- 


178      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

ing  half  through  it,  he  dangled  his  feet  with 
out  and  played  a  tattoo  upon  the  interlaced 
bamboo  wall,  and  sympathized  with  her  in 
whose  eyes  always  lurked  the  vague  Shadow 
of  Sorrow. 

Such  a  desecration  of  Padre  Antonio's 
Office  in  offering  religious  consolation  to  the 
Woman  of  the  Smoldering  Brand,  incensed 
Pedro  Calinga.  He  grabbed  the  kicking  feet 
and  yanked  the  intruder  from  the  window. 

"Fool!  Take  your  folly  to  scenes  of 
mirth,"  he  commanded. 

The  commotion  brought  Senor  Padre  to 
the  doorway. 

" Pedro, "  he  snapped.  "Fool!  Would 
you  add  to  the  burden  of  the  Sad?  Home 
with  you  and  pray  for  f orgiveness. ' ' 

Pedro  hung  his  head  and  went. 

In  the  early  evening,  Sefior  Padre  found 
the  masses  of  the  crimson,  brilliant  blossoms 
of  the  Fire-Tree  tramped  in  the  earth.  Be 
side  them  Pedro  squatted  in  the  yard,  and 
with  a  shake  of  his  head  declined  El  Luna- 
tico's  daily  gift  of  the  Blooms.  And  only 


AMUSEMENTS  OF  A  LUNATIC     179 

Furao's  withered  limb  reposed  beside  the 
Crucifix  in  Pedro's  room.  Padre  Antonio 
exulted.  And  later  that  night  he  appointed 
Pedro  sexton. 


CHAPTER   XXI 
He  That  Knew 

PEDRO  dug  the  grave  for  Senor  Gumila's 
woman.    He  wondered  when  he  would 
be  called  upon  to  dig  a  little  grave. 

That  there  was  anything  sublime  in  death 
had  never  before  occurred  to  him.  Within 
his  experience,  death  had  been  either  an  un 
pleasant  phenomenon  of  existence  or  a  neces 
sary  adjunct  to  courtship.  Not  until  he 
leaned  upon  his  spade  and  stared  into  the 
hole  he  had  dug  did  he  suspect  that  death  was 
solemn  and  worthy  of  pondering  upon.  Even 
then  he  failed  to  realize  its  full  import.  But 
when  the  slow  tolling  of  the  cathedral  bell 
announced  the  approach  of  the  funeral  pro 
cession,  strange  thoughts  suggested  them 
selves  to  Calinga's  mind.  Pedro  had  often 
heard  that  measured,  taunting  toll,  but  never 
while  standing  beside  an  unfilled  grave. 

180 


HE  THAT  KNEW  181 

The  funeral  procession  turned  into  the 
cemetery,  and  the  band  toned  its  dirge  to  a 
sadder  pitch.  The  quivering  wail  of  the 
clarionets  and  the  warning  boom  of  the  bass 
drum  seemed  the  lamentations  of  Spirit 
Voices.  Pedro  thought  of  the  heads  he  once 
had  hidden,  of  the  other  one  that  had  floated 
down  the  river,  thought  of  them,  and  crossed 
himself,  and  wondered  if  their  souls  still  wan 
dered  hither  and  thither  and  moaned  for 
Christian  burial. 

The  slow  advance  over  the  bare,  flat,  un 
adorned  ground,  the  whole  pomp  and  cere 
mony  of  the  funeral  parade,  impressed  Pedro. 
His  conscience  insisted  upon  reminding  him 
of  those  hidden  heads. 

Senor  Padre  gave  the  signal,  and  Pedro 
turned  the  earth  back  into  the  hole,  scooped 
the  soil  upon  the  coffin.  Hollow  thuds  an 
swered  the  blows  of  the  falling  clods.  Pedro 
paused  many  times  to  cross  himself ! 

When  the  rounded  mound  was  finished  and 
the  bamboo  cross  was  properly  set,  he  hurried 
home  for  his  wealth.  On  his  return,  he  met 


182      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Seiior  Padre  at  the  church,  and  knelt,  a  peni 
tent,  before  the  Servant  of  God. 

' '  This  day  I  have  thought  much  of  my  evil 
deeds,  and  of  the  Headless  Ones  that  fell  by 
the  wayside.  Take  this,  my  money,  and  say 
many  Masses  for  the  repose  of  their  souls/' 
he  begged. 

Afar  off,  there  floated  a  weird  ' '  Ki-yi-yah- 
ah-ah,"  and  Padre  Antonio  crossed  himself. 

"The  strong  young  man  and  the  old  one 
received  Christian  burial.  For  the  heathen 
Chino,  we  will  say  a  few  Masses  that  you  may 
pay  a  worthy  penance. ' '  He  raised  his  Cruci 
fix  above  the  bowed  head.  "Go  in  peace/' 
the  reverent  voice  commanded. 

Senor  Padre  pondered  for  hours,  and 
counted  the  pesos  that  had  been  entrusted  to 
him,  and  debated  with  himself  all  that  those 
pesos  could  do  for  that  other  funeral — which 
was  to  be  conducted  at  night  and  in  secret. 
As  Padre  Antonio  Kiachu  was  a  poor  man, 
just  the  Servant,  and  could  not  do  himself 
what  he  desired,  he  summoned  Pedro  Calinga. 

"To-night  you  must  dig  a  little  grave, — in 


HE  THAT  KNEW  183 

the  potter's  field, — because  Senor  Calimag 
refuses  to  pay  for  the  burial  of  the  son  that 
Ana  bore  him,"  his  calm,  sad  voice  droned. 

Calinga  started.  His  breath  came  in  short 
gasps,  and  his  eyes  burned  with  a  tense  fury. 
He  spoke  with  the  angry  intensity  that  man 
uses  in  addressing  his  equal  man. 

"Senor,"  said  he,  "this  day  I  gave  you 
many  pesos,  and  I  shall  earn  more,  until  there 
are  enough  to  pay  for  all  I  shall  ask.  Toll 
the  bell,  and  bury  in  a  fine  grave  the  child 
of  the  Woman  with  the  Smoldering  Brand  in 
her  Mouth,  and  buy  a  beautiful  white  coffin, 
and  carry  it  on  the  magnificent  bier,  and 
march  before  them  in  your  robes,  and  read 
many  Prayers.  Do  all  that  a  principals 
would  do,"  he  begged,  spreading  wide  his 
arms. 

Senor  Padre  smiled  a  kindly,  sad  smile. 

"Some  of  those  things  cannot  be,  but  you 
may  choose  for  the  grave  whatever  spot  of 
ground  you  wish,  and  the  Prayers  can  be 
said.  I  can  even  buy  the  coffin,  and  you  can 
carry  it  to  the  grave  that  you  choose.  But 


184      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

there  are  secrets  that  you  do  not  know,  there 
is  one  who  might  be  betrayed, — and  the  Po- 
licia  may  follow  us  to  the  cemetery.  So  you 
must  await  the  woman  and  her  child  in  the 
potter's  field.  After  we  have  pretended  to 
make  the  burial  there,  we  can  go  to  the  real 
grave.  I  shall  do  in  all  things  the  best  that 
may  be  done.  And  there  will  be  still  many 
pesos  left." 

"For  Masses,  Senor  Padre,  for  many 
Masses ?"  Pedro  questioned.  "Else  the 
"Woman  will  be  denied  them." 

Padre  Antonio  shook  his  head. 

"No,  son.  I  who  have  seen  the  beautiful 
Ana  Balisi  pine  away  for  sorrow  at  the  loss 
of  her  lover,  may  do  that  little  to  console 
her." 

Calinga  started  at  that  name,  and  stared 
at  the  Servant  of  God. 

"Yes,"  said  Senor  Padre,  "Ana  is  the  eld 
est  sister  of  the  charming  little  Teresa." 

Pedro  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  an 
swered,  ' '  As  God  wills  it, ' '  and  went  out  into 
the  silent  night. 


HE  THAT  KNEW  185 

In  a  far  corner  of  the  cemetery,  near  the 
foothills,  where  idle  feet  would  not  desecrate 
it,  Calinga  dug  the  grave.  And  when  he 
crept  back  to  the  meeting-place  in  the  pau 
per's  field,  only  the  moon  guarded  the  white, 
white  coffin  that  stood  beside  the  newly  turned 
earth. 

Three  silhouettes  advanced  across  the  bare, 
flat  ground  toward  the  potter's  field.  Padre 
Antonio,  repeating  over  and  over  the  Prayers 
for  the  Dead,  led  the  little  column.  The 
Woman,  dry  sobs  racking  her,  came  last.  And 
between  them — the  child.  A  man  walked 
between  the  two,  a  silent  man,  who  leaned 
forward  as  though  he  carried  a  weight  upon 
his  back. 

The  cavalcade  halted  beside  Pedro  Calinga, 
and  the  Middle  One  resolved  itself  into  two, 
El  Lunatico  and  the  body  of  the  child  he  had 
carried  in  the  old  "  play-horse "  way,  that  its 
mother  might  gaze  into  its  eyes  and  find  it 
easy  to  follow.  From  the  passive  arms  of 
the  Woman  of  the  Smoldering  Brand,  Senor 
Padre  took  the  matting  shroud, — just  a  rice- 


186     THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

sack  ripped  wide, — and  spread  it  on  the 
ground.  Then  he  lit  a  candle.  Pedro  stared 
at  the  treasures  in  her  hands,  at  the  military 
cap  and  the  wooden  sword,  toys  which,  until 
then,  none  other  than  El  Lunatico  and  her 
baby  boy  had  ever  touched.  Sometimes  her 
eyes  wandered  from  her  little  one  to  the 
handle  that  would  have  honored  a  war-bolo. 
And  sometimes  she  kissed  that  wonderfully 
carved  adornment, — a  passionate,  lingering, 
prayerful  kiss. 

El  Lunatico  knelt  and  gently  lowered  the 
child  upon  the  shroud.  Then  he  took  charge 
of  his  toys,  that  the  Woman  might  sob  her 
grief  over  her  dead.  With  his  cap  stuck 
upon  the  point  of  his  wooden  sword,  he  stood 
at  a  rigid,  military  attention,  while  Padre 
Antonio  read  the  Last  Bites.  Pedro,  his 
head  bared,  leaned  upon  his  spade. 

Senor  Padre  closed  the  Book  and  extin 
guished  the  flickering  light. 

At  that  signal,  El  Lunatico  knelt  beside 
the  Woman,  and  Pedro  prepared  to  scoop 
the  mound  of  earth  back  into  a  shallow, 


HE  THAT  KNEW  187 

empty  hole.  The  spade  crunched,  and  the 
Woman  moaned.  The  soil  thumped  into 
place, — but  the  shroud  and  its  burden  still 
lay  on  the  ground. 

The  kneeling  couple  stared. 

El  Lunatico  's  roving  eyes,  wandering  here 
and  there  about  the  cemetery,  discerned  a 
stooping  figure  stealing  away  from  a  neigh 
boring  mound.  Once  El  Lunatico  had 
known  all  that  Senor  Padre  knew.  Promptly 
he  straddled  his  wooden  sword  and  galloped 
after  the  spy.  "Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah,"  he  yelled, 
and  chased  El  Sargento  to  the  very  door  of 
the  Policia's  quarters.  And  when  he  re 
turned,  no  inquisitive  eyes  were  near  to  re 
port  what  transpired. 

Wrapping  the  shroud  close,  Calinga  lifted 
the  child  in  his  strong  arms  and  led  the  way 
to  the  other  grave.  Spade  under  one  arm 
and  sword  in  hand  El  Lunatico  supported 
Ana. 

At  first  she  stared  dumbly  at  the  white, 
white  coffin  and  her  bony  fingers  clutched 
convulsively,  covetously.  But  not  until  El 


188      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Lunatico  laid  out  the  body  did  she  realize 
what  it  all  meant.  Then  relief  from  the  hor 
ror  that  had  oppressed  her,  from  the  specter 
of  an  earthy  shroud  for  her  child,  a  veritable 
joy  in  her  anguish,  mastered  her.  She  threw 
herself  upon  the  ground  and  gathered  the 
cold  coffin  in  her  arms,  and  crooned  to  her 
baby  in  its  beautiful  bed,  and  wept,  until  the 
indefinable  pathos  in  her  moaning  cry  seemed 
a  prayer  of  thanksgiving. 

Standing  side  by  side  at  the  edge  of  the 
little  grave,  El  Lunatico  and  Pedro  Calinga 
leaned,  one  upon  his  spade,  the  other  upon 
his  wooden  sword.  While  Padre  Antonio 
again  said  the  Service,  The  Accursed  One's 
soothing  voice  repeated,  "Poire  Ana,"  till 
the  fever  of  agony  was  banished  from  those 
eyes  in  which  Calinga  had  first  discovered  the 
vague  Shadow  of  Sorrow,  and  the  woman 
glanced  gratefully  up  at  the  Irresponsible 
One. 

Calinga  closed  the  coffin,  and  the  two  strong 
men  gently  lowered  it  into  the  grave. 

The  thump  of  the  falling  earth  blended 


HE  THAT  KNEW  189 

with  El  Lunatico's  soothing  "Poire  Ana." 

"Come,  Pedro,"  said  Padre  Antonio;  "we 
must  leave  the  woman  to  her  sorrow." 

But  he  did  not  drive  El  Lunatico  away. 

From  the  cathedral  Calinga  glanced  back 
at  the  two  figures  crouched  side  by  side  in 
the  moonlight.  And  no  man  might  know  the 
thoughts  that  flashed  through  Pedro's  most 
Christian  mind. 

Late  at  night,  when  the  familiar  "Ki-yi- 
yah-ah-ah"  floated  to  him,  he  wondered  if  a 
new  hatred  toned  it,  or  if  he  only  imagined 
the  change. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
The  Ghost  in  the  Graveyard 

SEftOR  CALIMAG  glared  at  Senor  Gu- 
mila. 

"So?"  he  sneered.  "Suppose  the  woman 
is  promised  to  that  ignorante!  What  right 
has  he  that  the  Presidente  of  Badi  must  re 
spect?  Besides,  a  man  has  a  right  to  collect 
his  just  debts,  even  though  he  must  take  a 
beautiful  woman  because  there  is  nothing 
else.  What  is  to  prevent?"  he  demanded. 
"Vicente  Balisi  is  my  peon." 

Senor  Gumila  smiled  a  dry  smile. 

"Pedro  Kiachu  was  a  bungler, — and  so 
Senor  Calimag  still  lives,"  he  suggested. 
"But  this  other  Pedro," — he  shrugged  his 
shoulders, — "this  Pedro  Calinga,  Head- 
Hunter,  may  not  bungle. ' ' 

Senor  Calimag  shuddered.  Yet  he  main 
tained  a  defiant,  reckless  pose,  and  snapped 

his  fingers. 

190 


GHOST  IN  THE  GEAVEYAED     191 

"A  flogging  will  silence  Vicente's  objec 
tions,  because  he  will  know  how  another  one 
would  feel,"  he  declared. 

'  '  Ki-yi-yah-ah-ah, ' '  El  Lunatico  yelled,  and 
charged  out  of  the  house. 

Senor  Calimag  jumped,  and  crossed  him 
self. 

The  chattering  El  Lunatico  galloped  to  Ah 
Ching 's  store.  Then  he  galloped  out  into  the 
fields.  Later  Ah  Ching  pattered  down  the 
street  on  his  way  to  visit  Senor  Padre.  Ah 
Ching  confided  to  his  political  ally  the  terms 
of  a  certain  bet.  He  also  confided  some  other 
secrets, — and  among  them,  about  the  spirit 
voice  of  Li  Choy  Sang's  Ghost,  that  told  him 
things.  And  he  proposed  a  plot.  Then  he 
pattered  home  again.  Ah  Ching  was  serene, 
for  Ah  Ching  had  great  faith  in  0-mi-to-fu; 
he  was  certain  that  0-mi-to-fu  would  take 
care  of  that  bet. 

Padre  Antonio  summoned  Pedro  Calinga 
for  a  conference,  after  which  both  men  went 
for  a  visit  to  Vicente  Balisi.  As  Senor  Padre 
had  several  personal  matters  to  discuss  with 


192      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Vicente,  among  them  the  terms  of  a  loan 
from  Ah  Ching  sufficient  to  cover  any  balance 
due  Senor  Calimag  after  the  prospective  sale 
had  been  made,  Teresa  was  left  to  entertain 
Pedro. 

Pedro  shifted  his  weight  from  one  foot  to 
the  other  and  stared  his  admiration.  Be 
fore  that  ardent  gaze,  Teresa  dropped  her 
head.  Her  long  lashes  hid  the  story  in  her 
eyes. 

"Most  beautiful,  most  desirable  one,"  Pe 
dro  faltered. 

Teresa  moved  a  step  nearer. 

"The  new  shack  is  mine.  To-day  I  have 
won  three  pesos,  and  I  shall  win  another  fifty 
when  Tadday  fights  Senor  Calimag 's  Black," 
he  quavered. 

Teresa's  head  sank  lower,  lest  her  face  and 
eyes  betray  her  desire. 

Such  lack  of  interest  discouraged  Pedro. 
But  her  shy  beauty  tempted  him  beyond  re 
sistance,  and  he  continued,  "In  the  service 
of  the  Church  I  receive  ten  pesos  each 
month."  He  paused.  Then  he  held  his 


GHOST  IN  THE  GEAVEYAED     193 

breath  and  stared.  Could  the  most  attrac 
tive  little  Teresa  have  approached?  That 
was  impossible! 

t 'Ten  pesos  each  month  is  more  than  most 
men  can  offer  a  woman,  but  I  can  offer  many 
more,  for  I  win  many  in  games  of  chance. 
Clothes  and  powder  and  rouge  and  jewels 
and  all  things  to  match  your  beauty,  will  I 
give  you." 

But  his  wonderful  promises  did  not  win 
her  consent. 

Less  hopeful,  he  added,  "And  though  my 
evil  deeds  have  been  many,  I  have  been  con 
firmed,  and  serve  the  Blessed  Maria  and  the 
Child  Jem" 

Teresa  clasped  her  hands  behind  her  and 
raised  to  his  face  eyes  that  reproached  him 
for  bargaining  with  her. 

Pedro  faltered  just  the  three  words,  "I 
love  you." 

Teresa  flew  to  him,  surprised  him  into  si 
lence.  She  took  one  great  strong  arm  in  her 
little  hands,  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  pow 
erful  chest. 


194     THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

"I  love  you,"  she  murmured. 

Though  he  slipped  his  free  arm  about  her, 
though  the  precious  burden  in  his  arm 
thrilled  him,  he  still  failed  to  interpret  the 
reproach  he  had  read  in  her  eyes. 

"I  will  give  all  that  I  have  for  the  most 
beautiful  one,"  he  told  her. 

Teresa's  eyes  searched  his.    She  pouted. 

"Hard-head,  you!  A  woman  does  not  al 
ways  sell,"  she  protested.  "Sometimes  she 
gives. ' ' 

Pedro  did  not  know  wherein  he  had  erred, 
but  he  knew  a  Magic  Charm. 

"I  love  you,"  he  repeated. 

"Ask,"  she  commanded. 

"Will  the  most  beautiful  one  come  to  the 
home  I  have  prepared  for  her?" 

The  woman's  head  fell  back  upon  the  man's 
shoulder,  and  their  eyes  met  in  a  lingering, 
searching  caress. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered. 

And  so  Padre  Antonio  found  them.  A  fer 
vent  "God  bless  you,  my  children,"  voiced 
his  approval.  But  he  lost  no  time  in  hurry- 


GHOST  IN  THE  GEAVEYAED     195 

ing  them  home  to  the  new  shack.  Later  he 
loaned  Pedro  a  wondrous,  magical  Manser 
rifle,  and  taught  his  servant  the  mysteries 
of  using  it.  Pedro's  steady  nerves  and  keen 
eyesight  made  him  an  apt  pupil. 

In  the  morning  Senor  Calimag  brought 
the  Policia  to  take  Teresa. 

"I  have  bought  Teresa  Balisi,  whom  you 
harbor,  from  her  father,  for  the  hundred 
and  fifty  peso  note  that  I  have  held  against 
his  crops, "  Senor  Calimag  pompously  ex 
plained. 

Senor  Padre  was  surprised,  so  surprised 
in  fact  that  he  summoned  his  household  serv 
ants  to  hear  the  news.  They  laughed  an  ex 
pectant  amusement,  and  Senor  Padre  shook 
his  head  dubiously. 

"Last  night  she  became  the  woman  of 
Pedro  Calinga,"  he  drawled.  A  wave  of  his 
arm  indicated  that  person  squatted  upon  the 
platform  of  the  new  shack.  "Perhaps  you 
might  interview  Pedro  concerning  your 
claim?" 

Senor  Calimag  studied  the  ready  Mauser  in 


196      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Pedro  Calinga's  hands.  He  studied  the  war 
like  array  of  the  attentive  household  servants 
clustered  beneath  the  window.  And  occa 
sionally  he  glanced  at  a  second  Mauser  that 
dangled  between  Padre  Antonio 's  most  cleri 
cal  knees.  Two  Mausers  against  one ! 

"Jesu!"  he  muttered,  and  mopped  his 
scrawny  face,  and  stared  again  at  the  signifi 
cant  preparations.  "But  Balisi  shall  have 
his  flogging  for  this,"  he  hissed,  "and  his 
note  shall  be  raised  to  three  hundred  pesos." 

Seiior  Padre  drew  the  note  from  his  pocket, 
and  tore  it  into  shreds  before  Seiior  Cali- 
mag's  bulging  eyes.  He  was  solicitous. 

"Too  bad,  too  bad,"  he  sympathized,  "but 
so  the  debt  goes,  and  Balisi  stays  with  me, — 
in  my  house,  where  the  Policia  cannot  come. 
And  Ah  Ching  gathers  his  crops. ' ' 

El  Lunatico  laughed  and  laughed.  And 
then  he  yelled  a  wild,  fierce  "  Ki-yi-yah-ah- 
ah,"  and  galloped  over  the  fields  into  the- 
hills.  There  was  something  strange,  weird, 
a  suggestion  of  disappointment  and  rage,  in 
the  maniacal  sounds. 


GHOST  IN  THE  GRAVEYARD     197 

Even  Padre  Antonio  crossed  himself. 

But  Pedro  Calinga  squatted  on,  impassive, 
till  the  last  figure  of  the  retreating  cavalcade 
was  out  of  sight.  Then  he  signaled  to  the 
cowering  woman  within  the  shack,  and  car 
ried  to  Senor  Padre  the  pesos  which  should 
pay  for  the  burial  of  the  Woman  with  the 
Smoldering  Brand  in  Her  Mouth. 

That  night  Pedro  dug  a  grave  beside  the 
child's.  A  similar  funeral  procession  ap- 
prdached,  but  only  two  silhouettes  were 
drawn  by  the  moonlight  against  the  shadow  of 
the  night,  and  El  Lunatico  crooned  to  the  bur 
den  in  his  arms,  and  rocked  it,  and  soothed 
it  with  his  babbling  chatter.  Very  gently 
the  Accursed  One  laid  the  body  in  the  white, 
white  coffin. 

Then  the  men  gathered  about  and  gazed 
upon  her  whose  wonderful  patience  had  given 
her  a  strange  power  to  comfort  them.  From 
the  wide  open  eyes,  Peace  had  driven  the 
vague  Shadow  of  Sorrow.  The  white,  glim 
mering  moonlight  blended  the  horrors  that 
might  have  been  into  a  calm  repose,  and 


198      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

toyed  with  the  finest  garments  Ana  had  ever 
worn.  Senor  Padre  stooped  over  and  placed 
his  Crucifix  in  her  open  hand,  and  El  Luna- 
tico  dropped  at  her  feet  his  Spanish  military 
cap,  the  last  relic  of  his  other,  saner  days. 
And  Pedro,  who  knew  nothing  and  surmised 
nothing  of  her  past,  followed  their  example 
and  laid  a  Rosary  upon  her  heart. 

Antonio  spread  his  arms  above  the  Woman 
that  had  known  Sorrow.  Though  his  voice 
quavered  on  the  words,  they  yet  possessed 
the  full  power  of  assurance. 

"Pax  vobiscum,"  said  he.  "Thy  sins  are 
forgiven." 

When  Pedro's  shovel  crunched  into  the 
earth,  El  Lunatico  howled  a  wild  curse: 
"Ha-ha!  Some  day  the  devil  will  get  his 


own.' 


Pedro  recoiled,  and  crossed  himself,  and 
stared  at  the  two  tufts  of  hair  on  the  Ac 
cursed  One's  head. 

A  clod  thumped  upon  the  coffin. 

El  Lunatico  laughed  and  laughed.  Wav 
ing  his  sword  above  his  head,  he  fled  over 


GHOST  IN  THE  GRAVEYARD     199 

the  hills,  a  diminishing  speck.  But  a  con 
tinuous  stream  of  the  faint  and  fainter,  fierce, 
familiar  cries  floated  back,  until  the  succes 
sive,  hollow  thuds  ceased  and  the  mound 
was  well-rounded. 

In  the  early  morning  that  same  vengeful 
cry  startled  Pedro,  and  he  hastened  to  the 
window  of  his  shack.  He  saw  a  wild  Figure 
gallop  over  the  brow  of  a  hill  and  disappear 
on  the  far  side.  Pedro  crossed  himself  and 
hurried  to  the  white,  white  Crucifix,  and  told 
the  Beads  of  the  Rosary  many  times — that 
he  might  forget  whom  the  devil  would  wel 
come  1 

Later  he  found  the  crimson  flowers  of  the 
Fire-Tree  massed  above  the  new  mound. 
Pedro  stared  long  at  those  blossoms.  Their 
blood-red  hue  called  to  him, — urged  him  to 
send  the  devil  his  own!  Pedro  raced  home, 
and  hurried  before  the  Crucifix,  and  told  the 
Beads  of  the  Rosary,  prayerfully,  patiently. 

At  night  Teresa's  quavering  voice  called 
him  to  the  window.  She  trembled  so  that  she 
could  not  point  at  what  she  saw.  But  Pe- 


200      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

dro's  keen  eyes  quickly  distinguished  near 
the  new  grave  a  dark  object  against  the 
background  of  the  moonlit  hills, — a  Specter 
in  human  form,  a  wild  Figure  that  sometimes 
danced,  sometimes  kneeled,  sometimes  stood 
quietly  at  the  head  of  the  grave.  Calinga 
might  have  explained  to  her,  might  have 
told  her  about  his  own  conflict,  and  have 
received  from  her  the  support  of  her  en 
couragement.  Instead,  he  calmed  her  with 
the  embrace  of  his  strong  arms. 

Shortly  afterward  a  faint  ' i  Ki-yi-yah-ah- 
ah"  floated  from  far  down  the  river.  As 
El  Lunatico  could  not  dance  in  the  cemetery 
and  immediately  thereafter  howl  his  fiendish 
shriek  among  the  hills  where  the  Fire-Trees 
grow,  no  one  who  saw  the  Apparition  could 
suspect  him  of  one  of  his  crazy  pranks. 

Next  day  Calinga  found  upon  the  grave 
new  masses  of  the  Symbol  of  blood,  and  their 
glittering,  crimson  glow  fascinated  him  even 
more  than  before.  Not  until  the  God  of  the 
Lonely  had  answered  his  Prayer  and  had 


IX  THH  (IKAVKYARP 

broken  the  Spoil,  could  ho  race  homo  to  the 
Crucifix  and  the  Kosary. 

Teresa  came  home  that  night  in  a  furor  of 
excitement. 

"The  Ghost  in  the  graveyard  is  Ana's  Soul 
come  back  to  haunt,  Sonor  (^aliinag;  every  one 
says  it  is,  and  Scfior  Calimag  has  El  Sar- 
gento  and  all  the  Policia  at  his  house,  and 
never  goes  out  at  night " 

Pedro 's  amused  laugh  Interrupted  her 
frightened  patter,  and  he  soothed  her  in 
his  strong  arms  until  she  slept.  On  his  own 
account,  he  crossed  himself,  and  thanked  his 
Patron  Saint  that  some  suggestive  things 
\\onkl  henceforth  make  a  less  appeal.  1  lei- 
need  of  his  support,  of  assurance,  of  comfort, 
gave  him  an  over  increasing  mastery  of  self. 

When  Calinga  ceased  going  to  the  grave, 
the  Ohost  ceased  his  antics,  and  the  town  for 
got  its  fright.  But  each  day  El  Lunatico 
spent  some  time  in  the  cemetery,  and  Pedro's 
devotions  gained  in  fervor. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
The  Customs  of  Civilization 

MANY  have  died  with  the  smallpox,  and 
the  plague  is  virulent  this  year," 
Teresa  began  one  night  shortly  after  the  last 
appearance  of  the  Apparition. 

"As  God  wills  it,  my  very  dearest  one," 
Pedro  answered. 

The  woman  dropped  her  embroidery  and 
laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  compelling  him 
to  put  aside  the  spur  which  he  was  sharpen 
ing. 

"But  perhaps  there  are  things  we  can  do 
to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  Father  of  Wa 
ters,  so  that  he  will  spare  us,"  she  pleaded. 

"If  my  beloved  fears,  she  must  teach  me," 
Pedro  suggested. 

"My  man  buries  all  that  die  with  the 
smallpox,  and  there  are  very  many,  yet  he 
does  nothing  to  guard  himself,"  she  pro- 

202 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     203 

tested.  "I  trust  to  the  Child  Jesu,"  he  re 
minded  her,  "and  I  will  do  anything  you 
teach  me." 

She  pondered  for  a  moment,  and  then  made 
a  timid,  tentative  inquiry. 

"We  have  much  money?"  she  asked. 

"Tadday  fought  on  Sunday  for  fifty  pesos, 
and  won.  There  is  a  little  more  from  play 
ing  for  copper  clackers,"  he  specified.  "But 
the  men  will  no  longer  shoot  clackers  with 
me,"  he  grumbled. 

She  nestled  closer  to  him,  and  the  light  of 
pride  burned  in  her  fathomless  brown  eyes. 

"They  fear  to  lose,"  she  consoled. 

So  he  fondled  her  for  her  compliment. 

"The  Holy  Paper  that  Padre  Antonio  has 
blessed  gives  God's  Protection  to  them  that 
wear  it,  and  it  would  be  beautiful  on  the  walls 
between  the  many  pictures  of  Jesu, ' '  she  sug 
gested. 

"Jesu!"  he  exclaimed.  "That  is  a  good 
idea!  I  will  buy  much  Holy  Paper." 

"The  crocodile's  tooth  worn  at  the  throat, 
and  a  ring  of  the  crocodile's  bone  upon  the 


204      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

thumb,  drive  the  evil  Spirit  to  one  that  is 
unguarded,"  she  explained. 

She  shyly  unclasped  her  little  fist,  and 
showed  him  the  ring  upon  her  tiny  thumb. 

Pedro  kissed  her  hand,  but  scarcely  looked 
at  the  talisman. 

She  put  her  arm  about  the  bowed  head,  and 
pressed  her  cheek  against  his.  Then  she  un 
tied  the  string  that  held  her  crocodile 's  tooth, 
and  fastened  it  about  his  neck. 

" Until  we  have  another  pair,"  she  whis 
pered  in  his  ear.  "The  ring  is  better,  for 
the  Evil  Spirit  cannot  fail  but  see  it.  I  give 
the  tooth  only  because  my  man's  hand  is  too 
large  and  strong  to  wear  my  tiny  ring." 

A  kiss  rewarded  her.  More  contented  than 
she  had  been  since  the  fear  for  her  man  had 
begun  to  grow  upon  her,  she  nestled  in  the 
arms  that  held  her. 

"Is  there  nothing  more  that  my  most  pre 
cious  one  can  teach  her  humble  pupil  I"  Pe 
dro  bantered. 

The  woman  buried  her  face  upon  his  chest. 

"A  crocodile's  head  over  the  gate  to  a 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     205 

home  and  high  up  on  a  bamboo  pole  warns 
the  Evil  One  to  pass  by;  the  skull  guards 
the  home  as  the  tooth  and  the  ring  guard 
the  person  who  is  away,"  she  answered. 
"But  it  is  difficult  to  get  a  skull.  There  are 
many  teeth,  and  much  bone,  but  only  one 
skull,"  she  added  regretfully. 

Pedro  reached  for  Padre  Antonio 's  Instru 
ment  that  hid  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils. 

"Perhaps  I  can  kill  a  crocodile,  and  get  a 
skull,"  he  proposed. 

She  trembled  in  his  arms. 

' '  Then  we  would  have  to  make  many  sacri 
fices  to  the  Father  of  Waters  to  appease 
him  for  the  death  of  his  Sacred  Beptile," 
her  awed  voice  pondered.  "But  I  could  cook 
much  rice  and  begimg  to  send  out  upon  the 
little  rafts.  And  we  could  fill  them  with  bino 
to  drink,  and  with  cigars  to  smoke,  and  with 
buja  to  chew,  and  with  candles  to  give  light 
for  the  feast, — it  is  dark  in  the  Castle  of 
the  Father  of  Waters, — and  with  clackers 
to  buy  many  things." 

Pedro  jingled  the  clackers  in  his  pocket, 


206      THE  TAMING  OP  CALINGA 

glanced  at  the  pile  of  cigars,  the  buja  nuts, 
the  almost  empty  bino-jug  beside  the  altar. 

"We  can  buy  whatever  we  lack,  and  the 
rafts  are  easily  made,"  he  declared. 

Teresa  clasped  her  hands  and  smiled. 

"The  river  will  carry  the  gifts  to  the 
Father  of  Waters,  and  the  pleasure  of  the 
feast  will  make  him  forgive  the  death  of  his 
Pet,"  said  she. 

In  their  purchase  of  Holy  Cards,  Teresa 
and  Pedro  were  extravagant.  The  brilliant 
red  paper  appealed  to  Pedro,  while  the 
beauty  of  the  yellow  and  green  and  blue  and 
pink  and  purple  stars  and  crosses  she  could 
fashion,  by  slipping  the  ends  beneath  the 
edges  of  the  interlaced  bamboo  walls,  tempted 
Teresa.  They  bought  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

Senor  Padre  was  pleased  with  their  de- 
voutness,  but  he  disapproved  of  Pedro's 
choice  of  twenty  red  cards. 

"Fifteen  pesos'  worth,  my  children !"  he 
questioned.  ' l  Fewer  would  be  enough.  They 
are  merely  a  Symbol  of  Faith  in  God." 

They  insisted  upon  the  full  purchase.    Pe- 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     207 

dro  i^nmediateily  fastened  upon  his  calico 
shirt  ten  of  his  red  Cards  in  the  form  of  a 
Cross,  like  the  yellow  cloth  cross  upon  El 
Lunatico's  coat  of  sacking.  The  other  ten 
he  handed  back  to  Senor  Padre. 

"For  El  Lunatico,  who  has  not  the  money 
to  buy,"  he  explained,  and  received  a  bless 
ing  for  his  generosity. 

"A  wise  precaution  is  to  burn  fires  in  the 
road  before  the  house,"  Seflor  Padre  told  the 
departing  couple;  "they  disinfect  the  at 
mosphere." 

So  for  three  hours  each  night  Pedro  and 
Teresa  burned  a  mixture  of  dry  and  green 
brush,  and  thus  raised  much  smoke. 

Pedro 's  first  efforts  in  hunting  along  the 
river  for  crocodiles,  though  they  failed  of 
success,  gave  him  excellent  practice  in  marks 
manship,  and  taught  him  the  importance  of 
locating  the  vital  spots.  On  the  fifth  day  he 
discovered  the  vulnerable  point  behind  the 
forearm,  and  killed  one  of  the  Sacred  Kep- 
tiles.  Before  the  next  morning,  the  skull  re 
posed  in  state  upon  a  bamboo  pole  at  the 


208      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

yard  gate.  Pedro  cut  a  ring  for  himself,  and 
fixed  a  tooth  for  his  neck.  But  when  he  re 
turned  Teresa's  gift,  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"Keep  that  one,"  she  requested,  " because 
I  gave  it  to  you,  and  let  me  have  the  new 
one." 

Pedro  was  well  versed  in  all  the  Customs 
of  Civilization,  and  an  adept  in  the  practice 
of  most  of  them ;  he  was  a  skilful  liar.  Pedro 
had  no  intention  of  exposing  to  Teresa  his 
lack  of  comprehension,  his  failure  to  under 
stand  her  gift. 

* '  I  thought  the  older  tooth  was  the  better, ' ' 
he  declared,  "but  since  one  is  as  beneficial 
as  the  other,  I  want  to  keep  yours." 

The  happy  light  in  Teresa's  eyes  flashed  a 
brilliant,  shimmering  radiance  through  her 
welling  tears.  To  her  it  was  immaterial 
whether  she  received  the  old  or  the  new 
tooth. 

In  disposing  of  the  bones  and  teeth  and 
claws  of  the  crocodile,  Pedro  revealed  both 
his  benevolence  and  a  business  acumen  hith 
erto  unsuspected.  For  the  three  classes  of 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     209 

merchandise  he  established  prices  determined 
by  their  relative  scarcity,  their  desirability, 
and  the  purchasing  power  of  his  prospective 
patrons.  Pedro  became  a  Capitalist.  But  he 
did  not  accumulate  as  much  wealth  from  the 
enterprise  as  he  might,  for  he  turned  no 
body  away  without  some  sort  of  a  talisman. 
The  season  was  one  of  general  public  calam 
ity,  and  smallpox  was  as  dangerous  to  one 
human  being  as  to  another.  To  those  who 
could  not  afford  to  pay  his  established  prices, 
Pedro  gave. 

His  unrestricted  benevolence,  the  knowl 
edge  of  his  growing  fortune,  his  fame  as  a 
trainer  of  gamesters,  won  from  his  ignorante 
fellows  the  deference  they  gave  a  principals, 
and  from  the  dominant  caste  of  Society  less 
of  condescension.  For  Pedro  to  gain  from 
the  principales  acceptance  among  their  num 
ber,  there  remained  nothing  but  for  him  to 
engage  in  some  occupation  in  which  there 
was  no  suggestion  of  labor,  to  wear  a  long 
nail  on  his  little  finger,  to  assert  his  power 
over  others. 


210      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

The  most  spectacular  evidence  of  Pedro's 
wealth  came  from  the  number  and  frequency 
of  his  sacrifices  to  the  River-god.  Night  after 
night,  with  many  strange  incantations  and 
chanted  formulas,  he  and  Teresa  set  ten  lit 
tle  rafts  or  boats  adrift,  and  watched  them 
float  down  the  river.  Many  could  not  afford 
to  sacrifice  a  single  boat,  and  few  could  af 
ford  to  load  a  solitary  gift  with  such  valuable 
cargoes  as  all  of  Pedro's  carried. 

Yet  their  devoted  observance  of  all  the 
precautions  of  which  they  had  ever  heard 
availed  them  nothing.  A  day  soon  came  when 
a  high  fever  kept  Teresa  at  home.  In  her 
fear,  she  clung  to  Pedro. 

4  *  Send  fifteen  rafts  to-night,"  she  begged, 
"lest  the  Father  of  Waters  punish  us  for 
the  death  of  his  Sacred  Reptile." 

"Assuredly,  my  precious  one,"  he  prom 
ised. 

Though  he  spent  long  hours  before  the 
Crucifix  and  told  the  Beads  assiduously,  a 
premonition  of  a  great,  overshadowing  deso 
lation  oppressed  him,  and  he  was  sad  of 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     211 

heart.  The  fever  increased,  and  Pedro  called 
upon  the  more  competent  Senor  Doctor  Caro- 
man  and  the  women  of  Senor  Padre's  house 
hold  to  take  charge  of  Teresa.  Except  for 
her  rare  lucid  intervals,  when  he  was  with 
her  and  comforted  her,  and  for  the  twilight 
hour,  when  he  sent  off  the  rafts,  Pedro  re 
mained  before  the  Crucifix.  But  in  spite  of 
his  devotions  and  prayers  through  the  nights, 
from  Vespers  to  Matins,  in  spite  of  the  sacri 
fices,  in  spite  of  the  care  bestowed  upon  Te 
resa,  the  disease  encroached  more  and  more 
upon  her  vitality,  until  all  but  he  had  given 
up  hope  for  her.  He  only  redoubled  his  de 
votions  and  increased  his  purchase  of  rafts, 
until  they  numbered  twenty  each  night. 
Though  he  paid  well  for  them,  he  could  not 
have  gotten  that  many  if  El  Lunatico,  who 
alone  dared  defy  Padre  Antonio's  disap 
proval  of  the  superstition,  had  not  helped 
himself  to  all  he  saw.  El  Lunatico  presented 
them  to  Pedro,  as  gifts,  at  the  tip  of  his 
wooden  sword,  as  he  had  formerly  presented 
the  sprigs  of  the  Fire-Tree. 


212      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

One  night,  just  as  Pedro  was  starting  with 
twenty-five  rafts,  Teresa  beckoned  him  to 
her. 

' '  How  many  r '  she  asked. 

"Twenty-five.    All  I  could  get." 

She  reached  for  his  hand.  He  took  hers 
in  both  of  his.  Her  eyes  burned  into  the 
somber  veil  that  shadowed  his. 

" Perhaps  it  is  good-bye,"  her  hoarse  voice 
gasped.  "Send  them  all  for  me,  and  come 
again." 

Pedro  bought  ten  more  at  a  cost  of  fifty 
pesos.  In  his  anxiety  to  return  to  her,  he 
hurried  through  the  incantations  incident  to 
setting  them  adrift,  and  waited  only  until 
the  mid-stream  current  took  charge  of  the 
little  fleet.  Hurrying  up  the  bank,  he  glanced 
back  once  more. 

A  horrible  sight  halted  him.  A  river-pilot 
had  steered  his  casco  into  the  midst  of  the 
flotilla.  Baft  after  raft  the  Ilocano  boatmen 
speared  with  their  steel-tipped  poles  and 
drew  to  the  side  of  the  casco,  emptied  them 
of  their  contents,  and  smashed  them  with 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     213 

their  oars.  To  those  wild  rovers  of  the  river, 
it  seemed  a  glorious  amusement. 

But  the  desecration  of  the  sacred  offerings 
transformed  Calinga  into  a  god  of  Fury.  A 
red  fire,  like  the  setting  sun  sailing  upon  the 
storm-clouds  above  the  mountain  tips,  seemed 
to  burn  his  brain.  Every  tree,  every  shrub 
was  shrouded  with  the  crimson  glow  of  the 
Fire-Tree.  Pedro's  wild,  savage  yell  threat 
ened  those  who  had  defiled  the  sacrifices  to 
the  Father  of  Waters,  and  had  doomed  his 
Teresa  to  all  of  her  agonies.  They  should 
die. 

Calinga  raced  back  to  the  river  landing. 
Crouched  to  spring,  his  bolo  gripped  in  his 
knotted  hands,  he  hid  upon  the  bank  as  once 
before  he  had  hidden. 

The  boat  drifted  toward  the  shore,  and 
Calinga  discerned,  in  the  twilight  gloom,  a 
strange  figure  upon  the  bamboo  covering  of 
the  casco.  Yet,  about  its  savage  wildness, 
was  something  familiar.  It  arose,  and 
moved,  and  the  jangle  of  chain-links  accom 
panied  its  steps. 


214      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

A  Woman  of  the  Tribe  1  Tethered  to  the 
mast,  as  once  he  had  been  chained,  she  came 
to  a  sudden,  jerky  halt.  Surprised  into  in 
ertia,  Calinga  dropped  his  bolo  on  the  ground, 
and  stared. 

The  casco  crunched  upon  the  sand. 

The  defiant,  untamed  eyes  of  the  Comeliest 
Maid  of  the  Tribe,  of  her  whom  the  Old  Chief 
had  chosen  as  the  worthiest  mother  for  his 
grandchildren,  glared  at  Calinga.  But  in  the 
effeminate  Man  of  the  Valley  People,  who 
stared  so  helplessly,  the  Comeliest  Maid 
could  not  recognize  the  "Strong  Young  Chief 
that  slept." 

Calinga  grabbed  the  Crucifix  that  hung 
from  his  neck,  and  held  it  tightly.  But,  rec 
ognizing  Senor  Calimag's  voice,  he  listened. 

"And  what  may  you  name  it?"  Senor 
Calimag  inquired. 

Pilote  Guillermo  Babas  glanced  at  the 
woman,  and  shook  his  head  dolefully. 

"A  Savage  that  we  caught  up  the  river," 
he  explained.  "And  a  merry  fight  she  gave 
us !  Jesu!  It  was  fierce  I  Not  until  she  had 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     215 

chopped  four  oars  into  pieces,  could  we  club 
her  into  submission.  But  she  didn't  get  any 
of  the  men." 

Calinga  pressed  the  Crucifix  to  his  cheek, 
and  his  fingertips  caressed  the  red  cross  on 
his  chest. 

"So  fierce  a  Savage  must  be  troublesome 
to  guard.  I  know.  I  had  one  once,"  he 
sympathized.  "So  why  do  you  stop  when 
the  river  is  high  and  you  are  sure  to  pass 
the  Bars?  But  perhaps  you  have  merchan 
dise  for  some  one  in  Badi?" 

Pilote  Guillermo  laughed. 

"Jesu!"  he  exclaimed.  "Must  we  always 
have  an  errand?  That  is  not  hospitable. 
Perhaps  our  curiosity  led  us  to  stop."  He 
bowed  to  Senor  Calimag.  "We  have  heard 
that  Senor  Presidente  is  a  most  excellent 
judge  of  a  woman 's  figure, ' '  said  he,  pointing 
at  the  captive  Savage. 

An  amused  laugh  rippled  over  the  crowd 
and  over  the  crew  of  the  casco.  But  Senor 
Calimag  was  not  offended.  The  recognition 
of  his  judgment  flattered  him. 


216      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Civilization  had  changed  Calinga.  Once 
the  storm  that  raged  within  him  would  have 
flared  forth  in  a  fit  of  sudden  anger.  From 
experience  he  had  learned  that  restraint  suc 
ceeds  where  a  wild  outbreak  fails,  and  civili 
zation  had  taught  him  to  reason.  Though  he 
foresaw  that  Senor  Calimag  would  buy  the 
Comeliest  Maid  at  a  bargain,  he  knew  that 
her  very  savagery  would  protect  her  long 
enough  for  the  wily  Ah  Ching  to  devise  some 
scheme  for  thwarting  the  tyrant.  The  Come 
liest  Maid  had  to  be  saved  from  the  fate  of 
Senor  Calimag  ?s  women.  She  stirred  in 
Calinga  dormant  instincts,  instincts  that  dif 
fered  from  those  to  which  Teresa  appealed. 
The  emotions  which  the  Comeliest  Maid 
aroused  exhilarated  him,  and  for  the  mo 
ment  put  Teresa  out  of  his  mind.  He  even 
forgot  her  parting  request,  and  waited,  a 
cool,  calculating  witness. 

' '  One  hundred  pesos  is  a  small  value, ' '  the 
boatman  suggested. 

Senor  Calimag  cackled. 

"Five  pesos  plus  the  trouble  she  would 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION,     217 

give,  would  be  about  right/'  he  countered. 

Guillermo's  face  expressed  indignation. 

"Look  at  the  woman, "  he  commanded. 
"Strong  and  healthy!  She  can  do  much 
work.  A  hundred  pesos  is  too  little. " 

"So?"  Senor  Calimag 's  rasping  voice 
drawled.  "If  the  Savage  is  so  valuable,  and 
my  offer  does  not  please  you,  why  bother ?" 

Guillermo  laughed. 

"I  have  no  place  to  keep  her  on  the  trip. 
So  I  would  sell  her.  She  has  cost  me  some 
thing.  Four  oars!  Make  it  ninety  pesos. 
If  I  had  her  in  Aparri,  I  would  not  sell  her 
for  that  sum,"  he  claimed. 

Senor  Calimag  studied  the  woman.  He 
shook  his  head. 

"A  lot  of  trouble  to  train  her  to  work.  I 
know.  I  had  a  Savage  once,"  he  remarked. 

"A  bother  to  me,  Senor,  who  have  no  facili 
ties  for  guarding  her.  If  I  had  her  in  Apar 
ri  I  can  get  eighty  pesos  lower  down  the 
river." 

"The  Policia  trained  one  Savage,"  Senor 
Calimag  pondered.  "I  might  give  you  tea. 


218     THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

pesos.  But  if  you  can  get  eighty  lower  down 
the  river,  you  had  better  keep  her. ' ' 

Guillermo  laughed  again. 

' ' Sixty  pesos,"  said  he.  "Some  boasts  do 
not  pay." 

Senor  Calimag  rasped  a  cackle. 

"So  Pilote  Guillermo  knows  he  asks  too 
much,"  he  teased. 

' '  What  will  you  give  1 ' '  Guillermo  asked. 

Senor  Calimag  weighed  all  the  considera 
tions. 

"She  is  a  woman,  and  she  must  be  fed  until 
she  pays  for  her  keep.  She  is  a  Savage,  and 
she  must  be  guarded  until  she  is  tame.  I 
think  twenty-five  pesos  is  what  you  can  get 
for  her.  But  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  buy 
her,"  he  meditated. 

Leisurely,  Guillermo  considered  the  offer, 
and  discussed  it  with  his  men.  Finally  he 
said,  "Take  her." 

With  an  expertness  born  of  experience,  the 
Policia  took  charge  of  the  woman.  A  quick 
jerk  on  the  chain,  a  twist,  and  she  hung  over 
the  side  of  the  boat.  Despite  her  struggles, 


CUSTOMS  OF  CIVILIZATION     219 

a  chain  fastened  to  a  bamboo  pole  was  quickly 
snapped  on  the  ankle-ring.  A  few  methodical 
topplings  upon  the  ground,  accompanied  by 
the  torture  of  being  dragged  over  the  hard 
earth,  and  the  prod  of  the  steel  spikes  at 
the  end  of  the  long  boat-poles,  subdued 
her.  Snarling,  she  went  whither  they  drove 
her. 

Calinga  remembered.  Only  the  Crucifix, 
the  Cross  of  Holy  Paper  upon  his  chest,  and 
the  name,  * '  Jesu, ' '  upon  which  he  called  again 
and  again,  gave  him  the  power,  the  sanity,  to 
control  himself. 

El  Lunatico  squatted  near  by.  Silent,  ex 
ultant,  a  sardonic  smile  playing  over  his  face, 
he  watched  the  struggles  of  his  friend,  and 
toyed  with  his  wooden  sword. 

Catching  sight  of  the  Irresponsible  One, 
Calinga  thought  of  Teresa,  of  her  request. 
Sobbing,  he  fled  homeward. 

Behind  him  El  Lunatico  trotted,  and 
howled  a  wild,  joyous,  mocking  "Ki-yi-yah- 
ah-ah"  that  drove  the  delinquent  faster. 

Calinga  dashed  into  the  house  and  dropped 


220     THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

upon  his  knees  beside  Teresa.    He  stared  into 
her  glazed,  vacant  eyes.     Then  he  grabbed 
her  little  hands. 
She  was  dead. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
The  Kiss  of  Judas 

EL  LUNATICO  stood  beside  Ana's  grave 
at  the  base  of  the  Sloping  Hill  and, 
through  an  open  window  of  the  shack, 
watched  Calinga  pace  rapidly  to  and  fro,  to 
and  fro.  El  Lunatico  laughed,  a  noiseless 
laugh,  just  a  momentary  sardonic  facial 
spasm. 

"The  time  comes  soon,  Ana,  soon,  soon," 
he  muttered,  "for  though  I,  who  once  was 
Pedro  Kiachu  and  hoped  with  you,  failed  to 
break  through  the  Policia  guards  with  whom 
Miguel  Calimag  surrounded  himself  after  he 
had  stolen  you,  and  I  only  succeeded  in  kill 
ing  his  principale  son  before  I  fled  to  the 
Mountain  Outlaws,  this  Pedro  Calinga," — 
he  paused  to  kiss  the  carved  wooden  blade 
of  his  toy-bolo, — a  passionate,  reverent, 
prayerful  kiss, — "this  Pedro  Calinga,  with 

221 


222      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Ms  Savage  Stealth,  shall  send  the  devil  his 
own." 

When  the  door  of  Calinga's  shack,  suddenly 
opened,  shot  a  bar  of  light  over  the  ground, 
El  Lunatico  raced  to  the  top  of  the  Sloping 
Hill. 

"And  Antonio  has  wondered,"  he  panted, 
"why  I  who  had  learned  in  the  Mountains 
what  the  Art  of  Stealth  could  do,  would  de 
sert  you,  my  Ana,  for  so  many  hours  each 
day,  since  all  that  I  did  failed  to  arouse  the 
Savage !  But  the  time  comes  soon,  Ana,  and 
I  shall  laugh." 

El  Lunatico  smiled  at  the  stealth  of  the 
prowler  who,  tracing  a  snake 's  path  in  his 
effort  to  avoid  the  crosses,  crept  over  the 
bare,  flat  cemetery  to  Ana's  grave,  and  gath 
ered  in  his  arms  the  branches  of  fresh,  full 
blown,  crimson  flowers  so  conveniently 
massed  there  on  the  mound. 

"Better  to  have  wondered  why,  after  the 
months  in  the  jungles,  I  ever  came  again! 
Or  why  in  my  exile  I  became  the  Irresponsible 
One  that  straddled  a  wooden  stick  and 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  223 

played  soldier  with  the  children, — and  chased 
the  pigs  and  the  women  and  the  chickens  at 
'ba/iles, — and  laughed  and  chattered  and 
laughed  again, — and  filled  the  air  with  howls, 
— and  was  satisfied  with  such  amusements ; — 
and  for  my  sins  was  the  Accursed  of  God, 
even  to  my  Ana,  and  for  my  affliction  en 
joyed  the  Protection  of  God!" 

When  the  prowler,  crouched  as  close  to  the 
ground  as  the  burden  in  his  arms  would  per 
mit,  had  stolen  away  from  the  grave,  El 
Lunatico  returned  to  it. 

"Ah  Ching  could  tell  Antonio  what  An 
tonio  has  only  guessed,  for  the  Chino  is  no 
hard-head;  he  knows  the  heart  of  a  Savage. 
To-morrow,  when  the  devil  shall  have  wel 
comed  his  own," — he  shook  his  toy  sword 
towards  Senor  Calimag's  home, — "I  will 
dance  over  there,  and  when  Ah  Ching  patters 
by  with  the  crowds,  he  will  blink  his  eyes, 
and  ponder,  and  perhaps  he  will  guess  who 
helped  to  send  the  devil  his  own,"  he  hissed. 

Just  as  the  prowler,  merely  a  shadow  in 
the  beam  of  light,  vanished  through  the  door- 


224     'THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

way,  El  Lunatico  howled  in  farewell,  a  full- 
throated,  fierce,  wild,  mocking  "Ki-yi-yah- 
ah-ah,"  and  then,  straddling  his  wooden 
sword,  galloped  straight  back  into  the  hills, 
and  on,  and  on,  unto  the  Lair  of  Weapons. 

In  the  shack  Calinga  knelt  beside  Teresa 
and  draped  her  in  garments  so  fine  that  they 
would  have  honored  a  woman  of  a  princi- 
pale.  He  arranged  the  massive  combs  in  her 
hair,  the  crocodile-tooth  at  her  throat,  and 
fastened  a  cross  of  red  Holy  Paper  upon  her 
camisa.  For  a  moment  he  stared  at  her. 
Then  he  exchanged  his  own  metal  Crucifix 
and  Eosary  for  hers. 

Once  her  closed  eyes  would  have  smiled  her 
thanks,  and  the  little  hands  that  clasped  the 
gifts  would  have  caressed  the  giver. 

Calinga  left  her.  Standing  before  the  al 
tar,  he  banked  the  crimson  blossoms  thick 
and  high  and  deep  upon  the  stand,  a  brilliant 
arbor  about  the  white,  white  Man-Image 
that  hung  from  the  Crossed  Sticks.  When  the 
shimmering,  fiery  hue  of  the  flowers  had 
dulled  the  red-tinged,  purple-blue  daubs  upon 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  225 

thorn-crowned  brow  and  hands  and  feet,  had 
painted  out  the  blue  streak  down  the  side, 
he  stepped  back.  With  the  Instrument  that 
hid  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils  hugged 
tight  between  his  knees,  Calinga  crouched 
upon  his  toes  and  stared  at  the  array  before 
him. 

The  Fire-Tree  said,  "The  Comeliest  Maid 
waits  for  as  many  Trophies  as  the  years  that 
have  passed " — and  Tadday,  roosting  upon 
the  crocodile  skull  beneath  the  altar,  flapped 
his  wings  sometimes  and  crowed,  "There  is 
no  Eight,  except  the  Law  of  the  Spur ' ' — and 
the  Glorious  God,  nestling  amongst  the  blos 
soms  at  the  feet  of  the  Green  Devils'  God, 
grinned  and  grinned  and  grinned — and 
mocked — 

"He  hath  harried  the  Valley 
Where  the  Great  River  floweth, 
And  hath  filled  the  far  places 
With  the  noise  of  his  journey, 
With  terror  of  his  glory. " 

But  high  above  0-mi-to-fu  towered  the  God 
of  the  Lonely  and  Sad,  a  White,  White  Man 


226      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

that  stood  unscathed  in  a  furnace  of  scorch 
ing  fire,  and  looked  down  with  compassionate 
eyes  upon  the  tormented  convert — and  be 
hind  the  altar,  the  Man  with  the  Moon-Circle 
above  His  Head,  He  Whose  outstretched  arms 
blessed  the  Kneeling  Ones,  seemed,  in  the 
dancing  shadows  cast  by  the  smoking,  flicker 
ing  light  of  the  wicks  in  the  bowl  of  oil,  to 
spring  out  from  the  clusters  of  gaudily  col 
ored  pictures  on  the  wall, — and  to  say  "Pax 
vobiscum,"  and  to  jump  back  again. 

At  midnight  a  weird  Figure,  with  its  mas 
sive  brown  body  bared  to  the  waist  and  its 
trousers  tatter-fringed  at  the  knees,  stalked 
through  the  door  and  deposited  upon  the 
bamboo  slat-flooring  a  burden  wrapped  in  an 
old  coat  of  sacking.  For  a  moment  the  in 
truder  stared  at  the  little  Teresa. 

"Ana!  Ana!"  he  moaned, — and  his  wild 
eyes  gleamed  fitfully, — "once  you  were  as 
beautiful  as  was  the  little  sister  there ; — and 

I "  He  twisted  and  re  twisted  his  horns 

of  hair  until  he  had  mastered  himself  again. 

Calinga's  wide-open  eyes  wandered  back 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  227 

and  forth  between  the  altar  and  the  Man  with 
the  Bolo. 

With  his  matted  head  thrown  back  and  his 
eyes  focused  in  vacancy,  El  Lunatico  leaned 
upon  his  toy-sword,  until  Calinga  forgot  the 
altar  and  stared  fixedly  at  the  wonderful 
handle  of  the  wooden  sword. 

"When  they  brought  One  that  hunted 
heads,  I  hoped  that  the  devil  would  get  his 
own,  for  the  Captive  had  the  Art  of  Stealth. ' ' 

"Jungle  Skill  I"  flashed  into  the  brain  of 
the  attentive  Calinga. 

El  Lunatico  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
sighed. 

"But  he  had  the  heart  of  a  lizard,  and  not 
even  the  Fire-Tree  could  touch  it!" 

Calinga  glared  at  the  haunter. 

"They  chained  a  Man  of  the  Mountain 
Tribe,  and  shot  him,  and  flogged  him,  and 
murdered  the  child  of  the  Woman  with  the 
Smoldering  Brand  in  her  Mouth,  of  her  that 
had  succored  him,  and  sold  the  Woman  of 
his  Tribe  into  slavery; — and  yet  they  live, 
although  the  little  Teresa  sleeps  forever. 


228      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

Seiior  Calimag  lives,  and  Sefior  Gumila  lives, 
and  El  Sargento  lives,  and  Pilot e  Guillermo 
Babas  lives,"  El  Lunatico  sneered,  Awhile  a 
Man  of  the  Tribe  hesitates, — and  cowers, — 
and  hugs  a  Gun,  because  he  may  hide  afar 
with  it  and  hurl  a  missile  that  boasts  its 
prowess  with  the  snarl  of  a  cur.  But  the 
Gun  captures  no  Trophies ;  it  speaks  with  the 
Voice  of  the  Thunder. " 

Leaning  forward  upon  the  tips  of  his  fin 
gers  and  dropping  the  Magic  Stick  on  the 
bamboo  slats,  the  crouching  Savage  stared 
at  the  muscular  brown  body  of  the  Accursed 
One,  stared  until  the  tattered  trousers  were 
transformed  into  a  loin-cloth  and  he  saw  in 
El  Lunatico  an  Incarnation  of  the  Old  Chief 's 
Soul.  And  then  it  seemed  as  though  he  heard 
the  Old  Chief's  voice,  instead  of  El  Luna 
tico  's,  lingering  upon  the  words,  "Beware 
the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils,  that  booms 
with  the  Voice  of  the  Thunder's  Wrath  and 
flashes  like  the  Lightning."  Fascinated,  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  crept,  as  once  he  had 
crept  to  an  Image,  towards  him  through 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  229 

whom  spoke  the  Old  Chief's  restless  spirit. 

El  Lunatico's  smoldering  eyes  measured 
the  soul  of  the  Savage.  As  he  stepped  back 
he  kicked  aside  the  coat  of  sacking. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  pounced  upon  the 
weapon  thus  exposed  to  view,  a  weapon  with 
a  wondrously  carved  handle,  an  exact  dupli 
cate  of  the  handle  of  the  toy-sword.  But  the 
blade  was  single-edged,  dull,  crude,  rusted 
from  exposure  in  the  Lair  of  Weapons !  Dis 
appointed,  he  glared  his  resentment  at  El 
Lunatico. 

The  Accursed  One  clasped  the  handle  of  his 
toy-bolo  in  his  right  hand,  the  blade  in  his 
left,  and  gave  a  wrench,  a  jerk,  a  pull, — and 
a  long,  keen,  polished,  double-edged  war-bolo 
flashed  from  the  wooden  sheath.  'He  threw 
the  sham  blade  beside  the  old  working-bolo, 
bent  the  war-weapon  into  the  form  of  a  deep 
crescent,  released  the  point,  and  it  vibrated 
like  a  bow-string.  He  held  it  to  his  ear. 

"Beautiful,  beautiful,  silent  Song  of 
Death!"  he  murmured. 

He  squatted  beside  the  Head-Hunter  and 


230      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

toyed  with  the  burnished  blade,  twisted  it, 
turned  it, — that  the  reflected,  yellow  glare 
of  the  smoking  light  might  flash,  like  the  yel 
low  sun,  across  the  Savage's  eyes. 

"Beautiful  Bolo!  I  love  Thee,  for  Thou 
art  the  only  Faithful  Friend!"  his  sly  voice 
purred.  1 1  The  Arrow  may  fly  from  the  Bow 
like  the  swoop  of  a  vulture,  but  its  poisoned 
Death  is  slower  than  the  lumbering  march  of 
a  carabao,  and  the  humming  Song  of  the 
String  sounds  loud  in  the  silent  Jungle !  And 
the  Spear  may  spring  upon  its  Prey,  but  it 
crashes  through  the  underbrush  like  a  fright 
ened  iguana  in  flight,  and  its  Death  is  slow  as 
the  poison  of  cholera !  But  Thou,  my  Judas, 
art  an  Artist,  for  thy  kiss  clingeth  like  the 
worm  with  an  hundred  legs ! ' ' 

El  Lunatico  warily  watched  the  tense 
poise  of  the  crouching,  listening  Savage. 

"When  Thou  waitest  in  thy  Lair  thy  Si 
lence  is  that  of  the  Hidden  Pit  in  the  Path 
of  a  deer ! — or  of  a  woman ! ' '  the  voice  of  the 
Tempter  purred  on.  ' '  And  when  Thou  creep- 
est  on  a  Trophy,  thy  Stealth  is  that  of  the 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  231 

Snake  in  the  Jungle  I  But  when  the  Hour 
to  strike  hath  come,  thy  Blow  falleth  like  the 
Lightning  Flash  and  cutteth  like  the  needles 
in  a  crocodile's  mouth  I  Though  the  Prey 
in  thy  Embrace  squirmeth  like  the  wild 
boar  in  the  python's  folds,  his  Dying 
Gasp  is  Noiseless  Music  in  thine  Ear!  And 
thy  Tongue  is  silent  forever,  for  Thou  art 
dumb!" 

The  Head-Hunter  snarled,  but  before  he 
could  pounce  upon  the  tempting  weapon,  the 
watchful  El  Lunatico  sprang  over  to  the  al 
tar  and,  with  a  foot  on  the  forgotten  gun, 
stood  ready.  In  the  Accursed  One's  eyes  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  detected  a  promise  and 
waited. 

"Thou  art  Thirsty  again,  my  Bolo!"  El 
Lunatico  sympathized.  "But  soon  thy 
Thirst  shall  be  quenched,  for  the  Fire-Tree 
calls,  and  as  many  Trophies  as  there  are  fin 
gers  on  a  hand  await  Thee ! ' ' 

The  purring  voice  ceased.  With  a  parting, 
tender,  passionate  kiss,  El  Lunatico  laid  the 
glittering  blade  among  the  crimson  blossoms 


232      THE  TAMING  OP  CALINGA 

on  the  altar.  He  put  on  his  coat,  drove  the 
rusted  blade  of  the  old,  dilapidated  working- 
bolo  into  the  wooden  sheath,  and  slipped  out 
of  the  shack.  Astride  his  toy-sword,  he  gal 
loped  down  the  street,  and  far,  far  from  town. 
Out  in  the  hills  behind  Ana's  grave  he  howled 
a  wildly  joyous,  full-throated,  mocking  "Ki- 
yi-yah-ah-ah" ;  but  the  cry  did  not  arouse  the 
sleeping  people,  for  the  dissipations  of  the 
night,  the  hour  preceding  the  dawn,  held  their 
heavy,  dulled  senses  enthralled. 

Eeverently  the  Strong  Young  Chief  lifted 
up  the  beautiful  war-bolo, — and  laid  it  down 
again.  Once  he  stooped  over  the  still,  silent 
form  of  the  little  Teresa,  clasped  her  tiny 
hands  in  his  own,  and  planted  a  long,  long 
kiss  upon  the  cold,  quiet,  closed  eyes.  Before 
he  finally  extinguished  the  smoking  wick  he 
placed  a  heavy  purse  beside  her. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  moon  threw  upon 
the  ground  the  shadow  of  a  Figure,  nude 
but  for  a  loin-cloth,  a  Figure  that  carried  a 
burnished  bolo  in  hand,  and  slipped  stealthily 
to  a  house,  and  from  there  with  a  Companion 


THE  KISS  OF  JUDAS  233 

Savage  to  another,  and  to  a  third,  and  to  a 
casco  at  the  river,  and  back  to  the  shack  for 
certain  forgotten  valuables,  and  away. 

In  the  morning  many  discoveries  were 
made.  Because  of  the  excitement  attendant 
upon  them  it  happened  that  El  Lunatico  alone 
welcomed  the  Spanish  Military  Officer  who 
had  come  to  inspect  the  town  for  contraband 
arms.  Babbling  of  the  Ghost  in  the  grave 
yard,  the  Accursed  One  escorted  that  Digni 
tary  to  Senor  Calimag's  house.  Later,  when 
the  hastily  gathered  posse  set  out  upon  the 
trail  to  the  mountains,  El  Lunatico  straddled 
his  wooden  sword  and  galloped  along  beside 
the  Spanish  Officer  and  the  mounted  leaders 
of  the  pursuit. 


CHAPTER   XXV 
The  Escape  from  the  Land  of  Enchantment 

AT  that  hour  of  the  day  when  the  sun  rolls 
upon  the  storm-clouds  beyond  the 
Mountain  Home  of  the  Tribe,  the  two  fugi 
tives  halted  beneath  a  Fire-Tree  on  the  sum 
mit  of  the  Last  Hill  on  the  Mysterious  Trail 
that  the  young  men  travel.  Below  them  lay  a 
wilderness  that  nothing  but  Jungle  Skill 
could  penetrate.  Hands  shading  their  eyes, 
they  gazed  into  the  Mist  Beyond,  gazed 
towards  the  Holy  Land  of  the  Great  People, 
towards  the  Tomb  of  the  Old  Chief. 

Despite  her  exhaustion  from  the  toil  and 
hurry  of  the  steady,  unceasing  climb  upwards 
and  upwards,  the  Comeliest  Maid  was  still 
impatient  at  the  slightest  delay  in  their  es 
cape  from  the  Land  of  the  Strong  Young 
Chief's  Enchantment.  Though  she,  and  she 
alone,  had  broken  his  Charmed  Thralldom, 

234 


ESCAPE  FROM  ENCHANTMENT    235 

had  recalled  him  to  his  own,  she  feared  the 
Spell  of  that  Land.  She  lifted  her  burdens 
again  and  urged  him  to  hurry,  to  follow  her, 
to  gain  the  safety  of  the  Jungle. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  swung  about,  plunged  the  point  of 
his  beautiful  bolo  into  the  ground  and,  lean 
ing  upon  the  Magic  Stick,  stared  down  the 
steep  Backward  Trail  at  the  end  of  which  lay 
the  little  Teresa,  stared  as  though  the  inter 
vening  mountains  did  not  hide  the  weird  Land 
of  Sleep  and  Wondrous  Dreams  from  his 
straining  eyes. 

Perched  precariously  upon  a  bare,  brown 
shoulder,  Tadday  flapped  his  wings  and 
crowed  exultant,  defiant  challenges  at  the  four 
Trophies  hanging  down  the  Strong  Young 
Chief 's  broad  back.  Now  and  then  the  game 
ster  lustily  crowed  a  threat  at  the  grinning 
Image  of  the  Glorious  God,  who  swung  from 
the  tasseled  end  of  the  master's  loin-cloth. 
Sometimes  Tadday  arched  his  long  neck  in 
quisitively,  cocked  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
and  tentatively,  disapprovingly  examined  the 


236      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

God  of  the  Green  Devils,  who  rested  upon  the 
master's  other  brown  shoulder.  And  some 
times,  for  want  of  another  opponent  to  pun 
ish,  the  Bird  pecked  the  uplifted,  scratched, 
brown  arm  which  supported  the  Favored 
Bival  high  above  all  other  treasures,  and  had 
defended  Him  from  every  branch  and  twig 
along  the  Trail.  Once,  when  jealousy  mas 
tered  prudence,  Tadday  stretched  his  neck 
across  the  master 's  head  and  drove  his  beak 
viciously  into  the  side  of  the  God  of  the 
Lonely  and  Sad. 

Promptly  the  Strong  Young  Chief  cuffed 
Tadday,  as  that  worthy  Fowl  had  never  be 
fore  been  cuffed. 

A  boom,  like  the  Thunder's  Wrath! — an 
other  flash,  as  of  Lightning,  on  the  summit  of 
the  Mountain  Behind ! — and  a  Magic  Missile 
hummed  by. 

The  Comeliest  Maid  sprang  down  the  Mys 
terious  Trail,  and  implored  the  Strong  Young 
Chief  to  follow  her.  But  jbattle-lust  and 
vengeance  also  summoned  the  Strong  Young 
Chief. 


ESCAPE  FROM  ENCHANTMENT    237 

"Jesu!"  he  exclaimed,  and  dropped  to  his 
knees,  laid  his  burdens  on  the  ground,  crawled 
behind  a  boulder,  and  measured  the  distance 
across  the  gorge  between  the  two  hills.  Rest 
ing  the  Magic  of  the  Green  Devils  upon  the 
boulder,  he  took  careful  aim  at  one  of  the 
pursuing  Policia.  The  Magic  Voice  spoke. 
In  answer  Juan  Danga  leaped  convulsively 
through  the  air.  Again  and  again  the 
Charmed  Instrument  hurled  its  missile,  until 
all  but  four  of  the  pursuers  had  either  fallen 
or  fled. 

The  white,  white  Green  Devil  stood  boldly 
on  the  brow  of  the  Mountain  Behind  and 
beckoned  frantically  to  the  routed  Policia; 
but  for  his  white,  white  skin  the  Strong 
Young  Chief  spared  him.  The  Black-Robed 
One  lifted  high  the  little  metal  Image  of  the 
Green  Devils'  God,  and  commanded,  "Pax 
vobiscum" ;  and  for  the  sake  of  his  God  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  spared  him.  Off  to  one 
side  the  impassive  Ah  Ching  blinked  'his  eyes, 
and  pondered;  and  in  the  name  of  Li  Choy 
Sang's  bones,  the  Strong  Young  Chief  spared 


238      THE  TAMING  OF  CALINGA 

him.  But  to  the  One  who  straddled  a  wooden 
sword  and  galloped  in  a  circle  and  pranced 
and  howled  and  twisted  the  horns  of  hair  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  shouted  a  savage, 
friendly  thanks. 

Down  the  Mysterious  Trail  the  Comeliest 
Maid  waited.  She  gazed  long  at  the  bundle 
of  brands  that  smoldered  and  glowed  in  the 
mouth,  at  the  nuts  that  made  the  lips  red  like 
the  Fire-Tree  flowers,  and  at  the  yellow 
liquid  that  burned  the  tongue.  As  she  did  not 
know  which  of  these  Charms  had  filled  the 
Strong  Young  Chief  with  the  Babbling  Mad 
ness  of  the  earlier  day,  or  with  the  Present 
Folly  of  Delay,  she  scattered  brands  and  nuts 
to  the  many  winds,  and  hurled  the  bottle  far 
down  the  Trail,  where  it  crashed  among  the 
rocks  and  spilled  the  burning  liquor. 

The  Strong  Young  Chief  gathered  up  his 
treasures,  glanced  once  more  at  the  four  fig 
ures,  and  followed  the  Comeliest  Maid. 

A  faint,  joyous,  farewell  * '  Ki-yi-yah-ah- 
ah"  floated  from  the  far  distance.  Tadday's 


ESCAPE  FROM  ENCHANTMENT    239 

exultant  challenge  answered  the  cry.  Then 
the  night  and  the  Jungle  welcomed  the  Come- 
liest  Maid  that  had  had  so  great  Faith,  and 
the  Strong  Young  Chief  that  had  slept. 


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